


Fictober 2020

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s06e12 One Son, Episode: s07e21 Je Souhaite, Episode: s07e22 Requiem (X-Files), Episode: s08e13 Per Manum, Episode: s08e16 Three Words, Episode: s08e17 Empedocles, Episode: s11e10 My Struggle IV, F/M, Fictober, First Kisses, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s02e13 Irresistible (X-Files), Post-Episode: s05e18 The Pine Bluff Variant, Post-Episode: s07e02 The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati, Post-Episode: s07e04 Millennium, Post-Episode: s07e19 Hollywood A.D., Post-Movie: The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008), Season 9, Sleepy Scully, Spooning Sex, are mulder and scully married?, attempts at fluff, au version of season 9, bed sharing, chapter 10 has too many episodes references to mention, iwtb fluff, kid fic and family fluff, maggie scully ships it, more bed sharing, mulder and scully are doing the dishes, mulder and scully as parents!, mulder and scully get married, mulder and scully watch the sunset over the years, mulder is on painkillers, mulder's birthday, scully gets some sleep and some lovin', scully says i love you, scully's co-workers think mulder is hot, season 7 aka secret season of sex, sick puppy mulder, william is there!, william's first day of kindergarten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 28,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26755249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: It's that time of year again! Tags will be added accordingly and the rating may change.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 152
Kudos: 301





	1. "Why did you lie to me?"

Once she’s stopped gripping him for dear life, with her fingers digging into his skin, and right through his soul, he allows himself to look at her. Her face is ashen; the only color a streaked red where the tears have fallen.

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice thick with raw emotion. He keeps his arm around her, shielding her from questioning eyes. Bocks and his men watch them as they pass but Mulder keeps his attention on Scully, leading her outside. The night air is cold, fresh, and hits him right in the face. He looks down at Scully wondering if she’s always been so small. She’d fit right under his arm. If only he could keep her there, keep her safe from any harm. But he keeps failing, time and again.

“Please stop looking at me like this,” she says and though her voice is soft, he hears the irritation behind it.

“Why did you lie to me?” he asks her, tucking away a strand of her hair to see her face. Part of him knows he should wait to ask her, but he doesn’t have the patience. He could have lost her. Again. How often will they do this? Stand here shaken in the night, the stench of death clinging to them, having barely escaped it. How long until he’s too late again, until it’s only him out here, wondering what he’ll say to her mother. 

“Because of this right here,” she says after a moment. “I didn’t want you to look at me like this. Like it’s your fault. Like you have to protect me.”

“Scully, I’m your partner.” Anger seeps into his voice. “That’s my job.”

She recoils from his voice, but he doesn’t let her get away. “Mulder,” she pleads softly, and he loosens his grip on her. “I need to do this on my own. I need to find my own way back. I can’t just… hide behind you.”

“Why not? I’m big enough.” He cracks a smile and after a second, so does she. It falls from her face way too soon.

“Do you understand, Mulder? After my abduction… after Duane Barry, I need to find my faith again.” His eyes drift to the golden cross around her neck. “I need to find myself again,” she adds quietly as if she were revealing a secret. He will keep it for her.

“I would never think less of you, Scully. I hope you know that.”

She nods, avoiding his eyes. “I’d like to leave now. Please.” Just like that the conversation is over. She won’t let him be her shield and instead tucks away her emotions, hides them and herself behind a wall. 

“Let’s go,” he says, knowing he won’t sleep tonight, knowing he will stay as close to her as she’ll let him. For now, he puts his hand on her back, letting her know he’s there for her.


	2. "I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully has to take care of a sick Mulder who is not allowed to talk.

“You heard what the doctor said,” Scully says as she shoves a reluctant Mulder into his apartment. “You’ve got laryngitis and that means no work and no talking.”

“But,” he says and is immediately cut off by a cough. Scully pats his back softly.

“No talking,” she repeats gently, “at least until tomorrow. I’ll stay with you and make sure you get some rest. Come on, let’s get you out of these clothes.” She sees the grin forming on his face and holds up her hand. “Not a word, Mulder.”

She pushes him into the bedroom. “Get changed. Do you want some tea?”

Mulder shakes his head and starts unbuttoning his pants. He does it slowly, one button at a time. Scully finds herself transfixed to the spot, her eyes glued to what his hands are doing. He’s never been shy in front of her but she knows he does it deliberately. To get a reaction out of her. He may be unable to talk, but that doesn’t stop him from teasing her.

“I’m going to make tea anyway,” she says before she flees into the kitchen with sweaty, shaky hands. Who knew a silent Mulder could be so unnerving? They’re facing a difficult night. Not just for him, but for her, too. She misses his voice. The admission, even if only to herself, catches her by surprise. She misses him rambling about work, about baseball, and all the other little tidbits he thinks she’s interested in. What she really is interested in, what she wants to hear, is him.

She stays longer in the kitchen than necessary. Part of her hopes Mulder is already asleep, even though she knows he won’t be. He’s still Mulder. He looks up at her when she enters his bedroom carrying two steaming cups of tea.

“It’s ginger tea,” she says. “I put honey in it. I was surprised you have honey, Mulder.” She smiles at him and he bites his lip in an obvious attempt to remain quiet. “I’ll be in the living room, all right? Just yell if you – oh. You can’t yell.”

Mulder nods and, with a smile on his face, pats the space next to him on his bed. Before today she didn’t even know he owned a bed. Scully hesitates a moment, then sits down. Mulder glares at her and tries to convey a message to her.

“You want me to lie down?” she asks feeling silly, but Mulder nods. She takes off her jacket and Mulder, watching her, makes a noise that shoots color into her cheeks. This is not the first time they’ve shared a bed. Not even the second or third time. Yet, today feels different.

“Drink your tea, Mulder,” she says, mainly to distract herself from their closeness. There’s another noise from him and she throws him a look. “No words, Mulder, and no noises.” He sighs, defying what she just said, but drinks some tea. His ‘are you happy now’ look makes her smile.

“Now get some sleep.” His eyebrow shoots up. “You need rest, Mulder.” He picks up a journal and points at it. “Fine, you can read a while.” He rummages through a drawer and hands her another magazine. “Why do you have medical journals in your bedroom, Mulder?” His smile fills her with warmth. 

As she opens the magazine she wonders what he’s thinking. If he, too, is realizing how intimate, how downright normal and domestic this is. Every once in a while he touches her, shows her something in his journal, and she does, too. Exhaustion tugs at her way too soon and before she knows it, the magazine slips from her hands and she falls asleep there, right next to Mulder.

What wakes her up is something – someone – poking her arm. “Hm,” she mumbles, refusing to open her eyes.

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention,” Mulder croaks into her ear.

“You’re not supposed to talk.”

“You weren’t supposed to fall asleep here either,” he says, chuckling. “You know me, Scully. And I shut up long enough. Do you know how many innuendoes I had to keep to myself?”

“Mulder, shhh. You’re supposed to be quiet. Another hour? For me?” She turns around and finds herself nose to nose with him. It occurs to her that it’s very likely that she’ll get laryngitis next. Still, she doesn’t move away from him. The warmth of his body is comforting and she wants to snuggle up to him, nuzzle against him like a kitten. 

“A whole hour?” His question reminds her that he’s watching her, waiting. 

“Hmm,” she says, her eyes slipping close again. She allows herself to touch his chest, soak up his sleepy heat. 

“I have so many things to say to you,” he whispers, sounding scratchy again.

“Don’t whisper,” she says, “it’s not good for your throat. One more hour, Mulder. Then I’ll listen to everything you have to say.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Around S9, Mulder returns home as the threat is gone. He’s staying at Scully’s and initially doesn’t know how he fits in and is kinda jealous of her & Williams bond.

In the end, it is awfully easy. Way, way too easy. One day, Mulder is holed up in a secret place, hiding himself away from all that he loves, and the next day it’s all over, the threats against him vanished into thin air. Just like that. Fate has snapped its fingers and freed Fox Mulder. At least, in theory.

There’s nothing that holds him in New Mexico, nothing to slow him down either. He doesn’t need to take precautions anymore, but old habits die hard. He takes a plane and another, never to a big city. For the last leg of his journey, he takes the train, just like he and Scully discussed so many moons ago. His head is as empty as his old, beaten-up duffle bag as he hops off in Washington D.C.

“Mulder.” He turns to the sound of the voice he’s only heard in his dreams (and nightmares) for the last few months. His heart beats furiously as Scully sprints towards him, her long hair flowing behind her. When did her hair grow so long? He wonders right before she throws herself at him. Tears stream down his face and catch in her hair. He touches it in awe, needing to feel the silk run through his fingers.

“I missed you so much.” Her admission is mumbled right against his heart, beating only for her.

“I missed you more,” he says, holding her closer in the desperate, futile attempt to erase the last few months. Something is missing. Something isn’t right. “Where… where’s William?” Their son’s name is foreign on his tongue.

“He’s at home, hopefully asleep.” She chuckles as if it were an inside joke. Mulder remains quiet, trying to catch up, trying to be a part of this life that up until now hasn’t included him. “He’s grown so much, Mulder. You-,” she trails off, but he sees it in her eyes, her unfinished sentence. You missed so much. He swallows it down, like acid, and forces a smile. His hands cup her cheeks and he kisses her, finding his ground again.

“Let’s go home,” he says, the words almost a prayer.

Scully fills him in on the gist on their way to her apartment. Their home. Everything he owns, everything he needs, is there. His own place is long gone. He tries to listen to her, to what’s happened while he was gone, how they defeated the evil. For now. She doesn’t say that but it sits in the back of his mind, a small, nagging voice with a smoky undercurrent. How safe can they be in this life they lead?

“Mulder,” Scully says softly, interrupting his thoughts and touching his thigh. “We’re home.” He walks a few steps behind her as they approach the building. Can he do this? Can he return just like that, reclaim the life he deserves? He misses a step and stumbles on the stairs; does he deserve this life at all?

There’s an unfamiliar scent swirling around him as he steps into Scully’s apartment. Theirs, he reminds himself, looking around.

“Look who’s here,” a voice says and Mulder freezes. A moment later, Monica Reyes walks out of the bedroom, the baby in her arms. “Look, William.” The boy, much bigger than Mulder expected, comfortably chubby and healthy, with a soft tuft of hair on his head, turns to look at him. Everything stops. The whole world pauses as Mulder takes in the sight of his son. There’s a longing in his muscles, a frantic need to hold him.

“Hey William,” he says, barely realizing that he’s holding out his arms. Monica hands him the baby and Mulder is surprised how heavy, how solid the child feels against him. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Dah,” William coos and everyone laughs. Except Mulder. He touches William’s soft, pudgy arms, his legs, and his nose. Poor kid has got the Mulder nose after all.

“You’re big,” he says in awe as William reaches for his face, patting his cheek. His pouty lips start trembling and a few tears press through his eyes before he starts crying and pushing away from Mulder. His bubble bursts. William, his own son, doesn’t know him. He’s nothing but a stranger. Just another man holding him, keeping him away from the people he knows and loves.

It’s a feeling he knows well.

“He’s just tired,” Scully says quickly, but her eyes betray her, too. She takes the baby and he quiets immediately, leaning his head against her shoulder.

“He woke up 20 minutes ago,” Monica says in a soft voice, stroking the boy’s back. Mulder watches, jealous shooting through him like daggers. “I think he sensed something was happening.” Both women smile at him and Mulder can’t stand their sympathy any longer.

“I’m, um, gonna take a shower,” he says and flees the living room. The bathroom is the same, except for the baby shampoo and the cute towels. He takes his time in the shower, trying to scrub away the guilt, the fear that he no longer belongs here.

When he’s done, when his skin is as raw as his emotions, he steps out of the shower and quickly dries himself with one of Scully’s fancy towels. He’ll need new clothes but for tonight his shirt and boxers will do. 

It’s quiet when he leaves the bathroom, and dark. The living room lies sleeping and so he goes into the bedroom. Scully looks up at him from the bed, all sleepy eyes and a happy glow about her. He loves her. It’s not a new sensation, not at all. But it’s one thing he can count on, one thing he knows hasn’t changed. 

“Come to bed, Mulder,” Scully says gently, but his feet refuse to move. The distance between them seems greater than mere steps from her bathroom to her bed. Theirs, he reminds himself again. This is his home now, too.

“If you’d be more comfortable on the couch…” she leaves the rest of the sentence hanging in the air. Mulder glances at the bed, at her, at the sleeping baby next to her. He wants to be with them. He wants to belong here, with them. It’s all he’s dreamed about how months. He was wrong; this isn’t easy at all, not even close. 

“I want,” he says. “I want to be here.”

“Then be here.”

“I don’t want to make him cry again,” Mulder says as the bed dips under his weight. William doesn’t stir and continues to sleep, snoring lightly. “He’s so beautiful, Scully.”

“We did good,” she agrees. “You can touch him, Mulder. He won’t wake and he won’t cry.” Carefully he touches William’s small fist, wondering what he sees in his mind, what he’s dreaming about tonight.

“Is it really safe? For me to be here?”

“It is,” she assures him, her hand finding his. “I wouldn’t have… there are so many things that happened, Mulder. So many things I need to tell you. Not tonight but… but soon. But we’re safe. All three of us.”

“I should have been here with you. I should have protected you.”

“You did what I asked you to do.” She squeezes his hand. “You’re here now. And you were never really gone. I told William so much about you, every day. You were always part of our life, of this family.”

“But I missed so much. I fear… what if he doesn’t- he doesn’t know me. What if he-“

“He does know you,” she promises him. “He knows who you are. There’s so much time now, Mulder. We have time.”

“I’m going to be your dad,” he whispers, looking at William.

“You already are.”

His smile is sad. “Who am I, Scully?”

“My Mulder,” she replies without hesitation. “Now let’s try to sleep. Your son wakes up early. And Mulder?”

“Hm?”

“I’m so glad you’re home with us. Everything else… we’ll figure it out.”

He will belong here again, in time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you write Mulder surprising Scully at work post IWTB and her coworkers are stunned by how handsome he is? I can see her getting unnecessarily jealous that she’s had him all to herself until now.

“Would you look at that hottie?” Scully barely registers what her colleague is saying as she is hastily scribbling down notes, thinking about lunch. Her stomach grumbles, reminding her that it’s been long hours since breakfast. Who has time to ogle visitors, no matter how hot they may be?

“There you are.” She may not have time for, or interest in, random hotties, but she knows – and loves – the one that’s walking towards her. His voice, even after all this time, still makes her heart beat faster. 

“Mulder?” she asks, surprise evident in her voice. He is grinning from ear to ear, looking fabulous. When he briefly hugs her and kisses her cheek, she hears a gasp right next to her.

“Um, Andrea this is…,” Scully stops, holding Mulder’s hand in hers, nervously playing with his fingers. They haven’t discussed this. At all. Who is he? What is he to her? Mulder must sense her inner conflict and slips an arm around her waist.

“Fox Mulder,” he says, extending his hand. “Dana’s husband.”

“Her- I had no idea,” Andrea says, her eyes darting between them. There’s a blush creeping into her cheeks as she shakes Mulder’s hand. “I’m Andrea Novak, I work with Dana. She’s never mentioned you so I doubt she’s mentioned me.” Both Mulder and Andrea laugh and Scully wonders if she should leave them alone. She knows there’s no need, none whatsoever, to be jealous and yet… 

“Dana likes to keep me to herself,” Mulder says, squeezing her side.

“I, um, it’s… new. We… Mulder, what are you even doing here?”

“Ah, I thought I’d take you to lunch. You’ve been so busy lately and I wanted to make sure you eat.”

“Aww,” Andrea says, clutching her heart. “He’s handsome and thoughtful.”

Mulder beams at her.

“We should get going,” Scully says, trying to get out of the situation – and Mulder away from Andrea. The other doctor is her friend, and she knows how she is around men – especially ones she finds attractive – but Mulder has always been oblivious to the effect he has on women. He hasn’t been around people for so long that he’s like a puppy, just dancing and jumping around everyone who gives him attention, wanting to make new friends.

“You could join us if you’re free,” Mulder says and Scully wants to groan.

“That’s a- hey, Alex!” Andrea stops mid-sentence and waves at another doctor who is watching them with eagle eyes. Oh no, Scully thinks. Dr. Alexandra Tanner is her superior and she loves to gossip. She comes over, smiling brightly, her teeth as white as her scrubs.

“Dr. Novak, Dr. Scully- and who are you?”

“Dr. Fox Mulder,” Mulder says, sounding dead serious. “But my friends just call me Dr. Spooky.” There’s a pause and Scully thinks he might have blown it, but then both Alex and Andrea start laughing.

“He’s hilarious,” Alex says to no one in particular.

“He’s Dr. Scully’s husband,” Andrea says, the slightest hint of awe in her voice.

“Oh?”

“Where have you been hiding him? And why?” Now even Mulder is quiet, though he recovers quickly.

“We both lead busy lives.” Scully is the only person who knows he’s lying and as far as she can tell, the other two women believe him. Why wouldn’t they? They’re impressed by him, bedazzled even. Scully feels love swell up inside her. He’s her partner, her man. Her… husband. That’s something they need to discuss.

“You need to come to our annual Christmas party this year. Say you’ll be there, please.” It’s as though Scully is no longer there. It’s all about Mulder. She bites her lip to keep quiet. She’ll give them this moment. They’ll be on her later, wanting to know every little detail about Mulder and their relationship. Once again they’re gossip fodder, cheap watercooler talk.

“I’ll pencil it in,” Mulder says with a smile and he gets another laugh. “If you’ll excuse us now, I’m starving. I’ll bring her back in an hour. It was nice meeting you.” He shakes their hands again and finally they’re off.

“That was… something,” he whispers into her ear. His arm is still around her, keeping her close to him. “I really did surprise you, huh?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles.

“Bad surprise?”

“Oh Mulder,” she says, stopping. She faces him and cups his cheek. “You’re always a wonderful surprise.” 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, sounding impatient. “I wanted to do it as soon as I saw you, but your colleague looked at me as if she wanted to eat me.”

Scully smiles up at him. “I think you might be right. And yes, you can kiss me.” His lips are soft against her, feel right, taste perfect. Even if the whole hospital is watching them now, she doesn’t care. Her and Mulder, that’s what counts.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss you in public,” he says against her lips.

“You have kissed me in public.”

“Not in a while,” he replies, giving her an Eskimo kiss and making her giggle.

“You told them you’re my husband.”

“Does that bother you?”

“We’re not married, Mulder.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Excuse me? I think I would remember us exchanging vows.”

“Not in the traditional sense maybe,” he says with a grin. “I feel married to you,” he continues, his face and voice serious. “Should I have said I’m your boyfriend? That’s not us, is it?”

“We’re still partners,” she says.

“In crime,” he nudges her shoulder with his.

“Is this something you want?” Scully asks him. People keep rushing past them, but she fears that if they take one step, whether to the left or right, it will destroy this moment. They should have talked about this a million times over. But they’ve always done things their own way.

“Right now I want to take you to lunch. In the future? I meant what I said, Scully. I feel married to you. I don’t need a paper to confirm it – unless you do. You’re it for me. You’re stuck with me.”

“There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with, Mulder. You’re it for me, too.”

He leans down once more, kisses her softly, and she closes her eyes, reveling in the fact that he’s hers, that she’s his. And they’re finally allowed to show it to the world. 

“And you say we haven’t exchanged vows,” he says against your lips. “Now come on, wife of mine. Let’s go eat.”


	5. "That doesn't even make sense."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A post-ep for "Millennium". Mulder is drugged so there's got to be fluff.

“Scully?” The tone in Mulder’s voice makes her glance over at him sitting in the passenger seat, his good arm awkwardly holding his hurt one. “I’m tired.”

“Well, thank you for telling me,” she says and bites her lip to keep herself from laughing.

“Is that normal? The painkillers,” he says. “Should they make me tired?” She struggles to remember what they gave him but she knows it wasn’t anything too strong. He’ll live on Tylenol the next few days but that’s nothing new.

“It’s normal, Mulder. We’re almost there.”

“Um, Scully, I know I said I’m tired, but I know where I live. It’s not here.”

“It’s where I live, Mulder. Thank you for noticing.”

He’s quiet after that; too quiet. She unbuckles his seat belt for him and helps him inside her building, even though neither his legs nor his feet are injured. Another thing they don’t talk about. Scully doesn’t even think about it. The big It. The thing they don’t mention but that definitely happened less than thirty minutes ago.

Their kiss.

“Scully?”

“Yes, Mulder?”

“You want me to sleep… here?” He’s looking at her couch, then back at her. It’s too small for him on good days and today isn’t a good day. He’s slept there plenty of times but never with an arm in a sling.

“It’s a new year,” she says, winking at him. “You get to sleep in a bed tonight.”

“Uh, Scully,” he says, following her and stumbling over his own feet. “This year is starting out go-ood.” He grins at her, his eyes small and red. A wave of tenderness washes over her. He’s too cute for his own good. He’s also high on painkillers and ready to fall asleep on his feet if the soft swaying motion is any indication.

“Go, um, go change in the bathroom,” she pushes at his chest.

“I don’t have any clothes to change into,” he muses as Scully shuts the door behind him. She quickly rummages through her closet, finding sweatpants and a shirt Mulder left here years ago. But before she can knock and hand him the clothes, he’s already out again, looking at her with a curious look on his face.

“Scully, why are rubber ducks yellow?”

“What?” she asks automatically, clutching his change of clothes instead of handing them to him. He’s standing there in his boxers and his arm sling and nothing else.

“You have a rubber duck in your bathroom – I really thought you had more taste than that – and it’s yellow. They’re all yellow. Have you ever seen a yellow duck, Scully? I haven’t. Should we open an X-File on this? Why are rubber ducks yellow? That doesn’t even make sense. They should be brown or green. Why do you have a rubber duck?”

She’s staring at him, torn between a laugh and a sigh. Only Mulder, she thinks, wondering if she should check up on what kind of pain medication they gave him after all.

“Go lie down.”

“But the yellow ducks,” he complains.

“Lie down and I’ll explain it to you.” She puts his change of clothes on her armchair, knowing he won’t wear them tonight.

Seeing Mulder in her bed should feel strange. But it doesn’t. It looks, and feels, right. He’s waiting for her and she knows they won’t do anything tonight. Nothing but sleep, that is. Like they’ve done so many times before. Yet, tonight is the start of a new beginning. It’s in the air. Tomorrow, or maybe the day after, they will reach for it. Tonight, she’ll try to stay on her own side of the bed, and tell him about rubber ducks.

“There are no yellow ducks, Scully.”

“There are yellow ducklings, though, Mulder,” she replies, waiting for his beautiful, albeit drug-addled mind to catch up.

“You’re saying rubber ducks are… rubber ducklings?”

“Yes,” she says with a smile.

“Huh.”

“You think you can sleep now?”

“I just remembered that some of them aren’t yellow. I’ve seen blue rubber ducks. Blue, Scully. I think I’ve seen one wearing a tux. Where can you see a duck wear-“

She can’t say what makes her do it, what makes her lean over and press her mouth against his. Their second kiss is just as new, just as soft and careful as the first one. And just as addictive. 

“This is an effective way to shut you up,” she says after, not moving away from him. “Can we have this rubber duck conversation tomorrow?”

“Can we kiss again tomorrow, too?” His eyes are hopeful.

“Maybe,” she says, meaning yes.

“Then the rubber ducks can wait.”

Scully turns off the light and lies down, a soft smile on her lips where she can still taste Mulder.

“But there really are no blue ducks, Scully. It’s science.”

It’s going to be a long night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: early relationship and Scully's the first to properly say I love you and Mulder's mind explodes.

The ocean serenades them as they stroll along the beach, hand in hand, toes sinking into cool sand with every step. A gentle breeze plays around them, mussing up their hair. There’s a balled-up pair of nylons in his coat pocket, mingling with his own socks. It’s okay; their garments are as intimately familiar these days as Mulder and Scully themselves. He couldn’t keep his grin in check earlier when Scully used his shoulder for support as she expertly took off her pantyhose and handed it to him, trusting him with her delicates.

“I love the beach,” she muses, her eyes closing. She takes a deep breath, and a small, secretive smile appears on her face. The pang of jealousy he feels deep in his stomach passes quickly. As entangled as they are, in day and now night, she’s led a life before him, has known happiness and joy before she stepped into their basement office. 

“I do, too,” he says and she opens one eye to glance at him.

“Have you ever gone skinny dipping?”

“Have you?”

“I asked you first.”

“Maybe,” he says. “So? What about you?”

“Mulder, I grew up in San Diego.” Is all she says, as if that answered his question. She lets go of his hand and walks closer to where the waves kiss the sand. 

“I hope you’re not thinking about skinny dipping now,” he says with a soft chuckle.

“Come here,” she says, holding out her hand.

“Are you going to throw me to the fishes?” He asks, pressing his lips against the ocean-kissed, salty skin of her cheek.

“Why would I do that?” She looks up at him with big eyes. 

“So you can get it on with Assistant Director Skinner.”

She laughs softly. “Hmmm, I’ll pass. And Mulder? I love you.”

Each one of these three words carves itself into his heart. It’s been Scully’s for so long anyway and now she’s finally claiming it. He stares at her, his mouth open, his mind empty. But she’s smiling. Smiling at him, understanding him even in this. She cups his cheek, strokes it gently.

“I love you, too,” he says after half an eternity, stumbling over his words and his emotions. “I love you so much.” He takes her into his arms, holding her as close to him as possible.

“I know,” she whispers against the side of his neck, and the ocean carries it away, right into its own heart. “And I wanted you to know, too. I love you, Mulder.”

There’s nothing else he needs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early morning spooning sex

“Hmm, Scully, not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?” Mulder, only half-awake, mumbles his question into Scully’s hair. She’s stark naked, her soft skin pressed against his rougher one, causing the most delicious friction. Her butt wriggles against his front, waking other parts of his anatomy.

“I thought it was obvious,” she says, and sometimes, like now, he wonders where this woman has been hiding the last seven years. Her tailored suits are merely an armor, the frown she wears a mask. For him, she’s taken off both.

“I’m one lucky bastard,” he wonders out loud, scooting closer and putting his arms around her. He starts nuzzling her neck, his new favorite spot. And hers, too, if her reaction is anything to go by. Her ass starts moving with intimate precision and utmost desperation.

But Mulder is not in a hurry.

His lips pressed to her hot skin, he lets his hands wander. Her breasts are a favorite destination. He doesn’t spend much time there, though, much to her frustration. Scully grabs his arm, trying to make him go back. But his hand has other places to be.

“Mulder,” she groans. “Please.”

“Please what?” he asks against her neck, pressing his lips against her hot skin there. His fingers trail down her hip, stroke her stomach, and linger a moment on her gunshot wound. Just a moment. He has places to be, after all. When his fingers finally find her clit, Scully moans. He plays her like a well-loved, well-known instrument. By now, he’s fluent in her sighs and groans, her little squeaks and wails. It’s his favorite symphony.

“Get in me,” she pleads, biting into his forearm and pushing back against him. He shivers and his cock throbs, wanting to give in.

“Come for me first,” he says, working her harder. A moment later, she falls apart with a soft cry, and he reaches between them, guiding his penis into her. He closes his eyes, tries to find a rhythm that will keep him going. Her walls grip him in little aftershocks and he pounds into her faster and faster.

“Now you come for me, Mulder,” Scully says, panting. He thrusts a few more times before he can no longer hold back and gives in, gushing into her. 

“That was…” he says, trailing off, his blood slow to return to his brain.

“Good morning.” Scully rolls around to face him and gives him a gentle peck.

“It’s still dark outside,” Mulder says.

“I couldn’t sleep anymore.”

“We had sex last night because you couldn’t fall asleep and now we had sex because you couldn’t stay asleep? Scully, are you an insomniac or just horny?” He grins at her. “Or maybe you can’t get enough of me.” He makes kissy noises at her and to his greatest delight, she giggles.

“It’s one of these things,” she says, running her hand through his hair lovingly. “Figure it out.” He looks at her, falling a little bit more in love, and sighs. She gets up without another word and he watches as her naked silhouette disappears into the bathroom. 

“Can’t wait to try,” he says softly to himself, smiling.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William's first day at kindergarten.

“Are you ready?” Mulder asks their son, standing between them and holding their hands. The three of them, a perfect family unit, stand in front of the colorful classroom where children, some shy, some less so, roam about, talk, play, and laugh. Scully looks at her son, at his big, curious eyes, as he takes in the scene before him. He’s holding on to the straps of his backpack that’s still a bit too big on his back. But he wanted to have the space-themed backpack and she and Mulder couldn’t say no to him. 

“Do you think they like Bigfoot?” William turns around to look at his father. Mulder quickly exchanges a look with Scully. Most kids William’s age are interested in dinosaurs or cute animals. Not their son, though. William is all about cryptids, his favorites being Bigfoot, and the Loch Ness Monster. He is, without a single doubt, his father’s son. And Scully is filled with tender love for her two men, thinking of all the times they’ve been hunched over books, in awe of age-old mysteries.

“Why don’t you ask them?” Mulder says softly, touching the boy’s back.

“Only if you’re ready,” Scully says, smiling at him. She fears it’s her who is not ready. She’s going to miss having William at home, to always know what he’s doing. They need this. William needs to be with children his own age and she needs to let go. But sometimes she can’t shake off this dark feeling, this paralyzing fear that forces are still out to get them, to hurt them. To hurt her precious miracle baby. The one who’s grinning now, full of buzzy energy. Despite all that’s happened to him as a baby, he’s one happy, very trustful kid.

“I want to tell them about Nessie,” William says, showing them his baby teeth. A lock of auburn hair comes loose on his head as if it, too, was excited. Scully smooths down the stubborn lock just like she always does. “I should have brought my plushie. To show them. Do you think I should bring it tomorrow, Daddy?”

“Maybe,” he says with a chuckle. “So what do you say? Ready to join the others?”

“I am,” William says, standing up straight. One day he’s going to be tall, way taller than Scully, and maybe even taller than Mulder. Scully watches him and if she could, she’d stop time. She just wants him to be her baby a moment longer, just a few minutes. Then she’ll be ready to let him go. But there is never enough time and like every other moment, this one ends, too, and too quickly.

William opens his arms and gets on tiptoes. Mulder takes him up easily and the boy slings his arm around his neck. The same way he does when he’s tired and clings to Mulder like a little monkey, wanting to stay awake a bit longer, but barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Have fun,” Mulder says, kissing the boy’s cheek. “We love you.”

“Bye, daddy. Bye, mommy.” William lets her hold him, too, for a short moment, and then he’s on his own two feet, his backpack bouncing up and down as he joins a few kids playing with toy cars. Without taking her eyes off her son, she finds Mulder’s hand and squeezes it. They watch as William sits down, immediately striking up a conversation. They can’t hear anything but the smile on his freckled face says everything they need to know.

“We should leave, huh?” Mulder asks her.

“We should.”

“Think we should sit in the car for the next few hours and wait until we can pick him up again?”

“Or we could go home and take a nap.”

“A nap?” He looks at her and must see the mischievous glint in her eyes. “A nap sounds good. Let’s go.”

But before they do, they glance back at William one more time. Their baby boy, their improbable miracle. From the looks of it, he’s already made friends. He’ll be fine. Scully feels it in her gut. And yet, turning away, leaving him here, feels as though someone were squeezing her heart.

“Scully, look at him,” Mulder says as if reading her thoughts. “He’s perfectly fine without us. Who knew the first day of kindergarten is harder for the parents than for the kid? Let’s go before I start crying my eyes out.”

Together they leave, the sound of happy children in their ears.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in season 7, after "Millennium": Mulder and Scully are at her mother's where they end up doing the dishes and other things.

Mrs. Scully inviting Mulder over for Sunday dinner is not unheard of. Him showing up, however, is a rarity. On their way over to her house, Mulder glances at Scully, always stealthily, trying to find the right words to ask what he so desperately wants to know.

What are they? Are they boyfriend and girlfriend now?

But, as so often when it comes to matters of his heart, and their relationship, he keeps his mouth shut. The right words just never manifest. To Mrs. Scully, it doesn’t matter. He is Fox, Dana’s partner. As far as he can tell, her mother has no idea their relationship has changed. Or not changed, per se, but shifted. In many ways, he is glad he doesn’t have to explain himself or change his behavior. He wouldn’t even know where to begin.

“So, how’s work?” Mrs. Scully is making conversation. She’s smiling a lot, at him, too, and he is beginning to wonder if maybe Scully has let something slip after all. What would she have said? Mulder and I have kissed. Mulder and I have – no, she wouldn’t have told her mother that.

Or would she?

“Fox, you’re not eating.”

“Oh, I was… well, um.” He glances at Scully, hoping she’ll save him. After all, he’s been distracted because of her. His mind is a bucket full of unspoken sentiments, ready to tip over at any given moment. He shouldn’t have said yes to coming with. “It’s really good, Mrs. Scully. I’m savoring it.” He colors brightly and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Scully stuff a potato into her mouth to disguise her grin.

“You can call me Maggie, Fox. We’ve known each other long enough, haven’t we? Leave some room for dessert you two. I made pie.”

“I love pie,” Mulder says truthfully.

“Well then eat up so we can have some!”

After dinner, and after the spectacular pie, Mulder is not sure he can work the next day. His stomach full, his mind quiet, he is lounging on Mrs. Scully’s couch, watching his Scully. Her eyes are smaller than usual, exhaustion catching up with her, but her cheeks are rosy and there’s a soft smile playing around her lips. He realizes that this is what she looks like when she’s content, not a care in the world. And he’s lucky enough to be here, to witness it.

“I’m going to do the dishes, you two just-“

“No, Mom,” Scully interjects, getting up. “Mulder and I will do the dishes. You sit and relax for once.” The two women hug quickly and Mulder, like a dutiful puppy, follows Scully into the kitchen.

“Do you want to wash or dry?”

“Huh?”

“Teamwork, Mulder. Do you want to be in charge of washing or drying the dishes?”

“Which one do you hate more?”

“Washing,” she says and scrunches up her nose.

“Then I’ll wash.”

They stand close together, hip to hip, and work silently, effortlessly. “We’re good at this, huh?” Mulder says and can’t quite suppress his surprise.

“It’s not rocket science, Mulder,” Scully replies, but there’s humor in her voice. She bumps his hip with hers and gives him a huge grin. He wants more of this Scully, of Sunday dinner at her mom’s Scully. “Do I have something on my face? You’re staring at me.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says simply.

“Mulder,” Scully murmurs, taking a wet plate from him, their fingers brushing.

“Did you tell your mom about us?”

“No,” she says, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know- we haven’t discussed anything and…,” she trails off and puts the now dry plate on the kitchen counter.

“Should we discuss it?” He asks, watching her intently.

“Probably.”

“Scully, I hope you know that-“

“Are you two done yet?” They jump apart, and a plate almost slips through Mulder’s fingers. He catches it just in time, panting heavily. “Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you! You’ve just been gone a while. Take your time.” And then she does it: she winks at them before she walks out of the kitchen, leaving them in stunned silence.

“Did your mother just…”

“Wink at us? Yes.”

“I guess she’s put two and two together.”

“Mulder, we’ve barely put two and two together.”

“Well,” he says, moving closer to her again. “We have definitely put certain parts of us together.”

“Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s just finish the dishes.”

“You don’t want to talk about us,” he says, trying to swallow his disappointment.

“I don’t want to talk about it in my mom’s kitchen.”

“She obviously knows.”

“That’s not the point.” But what is the point? he wonders. They continue working silently; wash, dry and repeat. When they’re down to the last plate, Mulder flicks some dishwater at her, just to tease her. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, staring at her blouse. Boy is he happy that she decided to wear white today. He flicks some more water at her, grinning at the wet spot right by her breast, revealing the contours of her bra underneath. 

“Mulder,” she says warningly.

“I’m not doing anything,” he says. “I’m just doing the dishes.” Before he knows what’s happening, Scully has scooped up a fair amount of water in her hands and splashes it at him. He gasps, too shocked to react. “You really shouldn’t have done that.” He reaches for an empty glass and starts filling it up with water.

“That’s not fair, Mulder,” Scully says, backing away slowly, never taking her eyes off him. That’s until she starts to slip on the floor.

“Fuck, Scully!” He reaches for her just in time but slips himself on the small puddle of dishwater on the ground. There’s a squeak, a scream and then he finds himself on his back, with Scully on top.

“Mulder, are you all right?” she asks him, her face close to his.

“I think- I think so. Are you?”

“I’m fine,” she assures him, stroking his cheek. “You broke my fall.” Mulder thinks that this is the perfect moment to kiss her again, to say what he needs to say without using any words.

“What are you two doing on the floor?” Or maybe it’s not the perfect moment at all. They both turn towards the door where Mrs. Scully is standing, hands on her hips, torn between amusement and anger.

“I slipped,” Scully says.

“I did, too.”

“As happy as I am that you’re finally a couple, this,” she gestures at them still laying on the floor, her daughter on top of him, “this is unacceptable. Please get up and join me in the living room.”

“Scully, why do I suddenly feel like a 16-year-old who is about to get yelled at and get a lecture about safe sex?”

She chuckles and moves off of him, reaching for his hand once she’s standing. “That might happen.”

“Hey? Whatever happens, I- I’m glad I came here today. Even if your mom saw us do… that.”

“I’m glad you’re here too.” She gets on tiptoes and pulls down his head, her hands playing with the hair on his neck. Their mouths meet in the middle, in a chaste, sweet kiss that holds promises for later. 

“Worth it,” Mulder mumbles against her lips and Scully doesn’t disagree.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Mulder had access to his rooftop? What if he and Scully sat there together from time to time, watching the sunset?

“Please,” Scully says, squeezing Mulder’s hand, looking at him with unshed tears in her eyes. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” And Mulder can’t let go. He can’t let go of The X-Files or the search for his sister, the truth. Most of all, and it hits him violently in the gut, making him dizzy, he can’t let go of Scully. One year ago, she strolled into his basement office with a soft smile and no idea what she’d gotten herself into. Now, his little spy has become his greatest confidant. The thought of losing her is unfathomable.

“I have an idea,” he says, entwining their fingers, and bringing her to the place that up until to now, has been his and his only.

“I didn’t even know your building had a rooftop.”

“Most people don’t.” He grins at her. “I have a key.”

There’s not much space but it’s always just been him, so it was enough. He motions for Scully to sit down on the beat-up chair he found in a corner the first time he’s come up here. She sits with a thankful smile and he crouches next to her, his knees uncomfortable on the cold, hard concrete.

“The sun is setting,” Scully says, her voice as soft as the colors stretching over the sky above them.

“I know,” he replies, watching her instead. “I come here sometimes to think. To watch the sunset and remind myself that the world isn’t all bad. I thought maybe I could… get a second chair, a second set of keys.”

Scully turns to him. There are still tears in her eyes, but the ashen look of desperation in her face has vanished. The last rays of sunshine tangle in her hair and caress her cheeks.

“I would like that, Mulder.”

*

There are two chairs now and only one of them here to use them. He stares at the empty, silent seat beside him. Up above him, the sky is grey, as listless as he is. The sunset is hidden behind dark, angry clouds. Hope is dwindling with every passing day. The hope that they’ll find Scully. That they’ll find her alive.

A sliver of blue finds its way through the layers of bitter clouds, cracks it open just one bit. He clings to that small promise, to the possibility of faith.

Where are you Scully? he thinks, holding her cross between his fingers, trying to find the strength to go on.

*

“Hey,” he says, drawing his chair close to hers.

“I didn’t know where to go,” she says as a way of apology.

He shakes his head. “I told you this place is as much yours as mine.” Her knuckles are white from gripping the armrest. He touches the hand right next to him and she startles.

“I’m just so angry, Mulder. And my mother she… I couldn’t stand the look on her face anymore.” She lifts her head to the clouds. “I can’t believe I’ll never talk to Melissa ever again.”

“I’m sorry, Scully. For your loss, for… everything.”

Their fingers intertwine on their own account. The sun sets right before their eyes, a last hurrah for the day. Tomorrow, they will do this all over again. Just a respite before another fight, before another injustice. Before another loss. Neither of them lets go of the other, not for the longest time, not until they’re engulfed into complete darkness, the night’s cold nipping at them and reminding them that they, against all odds, are still alive. 

*

“You can’t keep doing this,” Scully says, standing next to him, and even though he’s not looking at her, he knows she’s frowning. She’s bundled up in a thick coat, needing the warmth, needing to hide her diminishing body away. No amount of layers can cover up the truth they both know.

She’s dying.

Mulder looks straight ahead at where the sun bleeds red into the sky. What does it matter to her? Why does she care what happens to him once she’s gone? His thoughts buzz in his head, like a swarm of angry bees. He wants to throw the chair away, to hide the keys. How can he ever return here once she’s buried in the cold earth?

“Mulder, I mean it. What you did… why did you do it? Why did you let someone drill a hole into your head?” Her voice rises with every word she says. He doesn’t have answers for her. He can’s save her and so he doesn’t deserve to be saved. Definitely not by her.

“I can’t- Mulder, please look at me.” He can’t deny her when she’s pleading with him. How can he deny her anything now when she’s dying? With force, he turns his head towards her. “I can’t bear the thought that you hurt yourself. You need to start taking better care of yourself.”

His nod is an empty promise, but she sits next to him anyway. He holds her tiny, cold hand in his and squeezes it tightly before he interlaces their fingers. Maybe some of his warmth, some of his life, can seep into her. She needs it more than he does.

*

“You said you wanted to talk to me?” Mulder is hesitant in sitting down. There’s a gentle breeze in the air, a hint of summer palpable in the rich bouquet of new beginnings.

“Hmm.” There’s a soft, albeit shy smile on her face that disarms his heart. He sits down, glances briefly at the early sunset, not yet in full procession, coloring them in golden hues.

“I must admit I was a bit, um, worried when I got your message because-“

“I want a baby, Mulder.” The smile is still there, now mixed with determination. She wants this. She really wants this. He swallows hard, his mind rushing through all the implications. Scully wants a child.

“That’s um…”

“I got a second opinion for the ova you’ve stored. There’s a good chance that IVF will work for me.”

“That’s incredible, Scully.”

She nods, watching him. “There’s just one problem. It’s not a problem, just- I need…, you know…”

“A father,” he supplies.

“So to speak. I don’t want you to answer right away, Mulder, because I know this is a big decision and one that neither of us should make lightly. I’ve spent all week thinking about it. You were my first thought when Dr. Parenti said there was a chance. During the week, I realized that… I don’t want you to feel pressured or like this is something that you have to do. I want you to think about it, okay?”

“You want me to be the…” now he can’t say it. Father. Scully wants him to be the father of her child.

“Please think about it. I’m going to leave you alone now.” She squeezes his shoulder and he sits there, frozen and shell-shocked. His eyes are trained on the sky where soft, pale blue and pink stripes frolic together. There’s no decision to be made. His heart pounds in his chest.

They’re going to try and make a baby.

*

She doesn’t say a word as she hands him a key. The key to the rooftop. He stares back at her, dumbfounded.

“I thought maybe you’d like it back.” Her voice is clipped, as neatly coiffed as her hair.

“Why?”

“I figured you’d like to share it with someone else.”

“Scully, no.” But she’s already leaving. He catches her right when her hand lands on the doorknob. “This is our place,” he says. “Diana doesn’t even know it exists. Neither would I want her to. Please stay? Look at that sunset.”

She doesn’t. She’s staring at her own hand, wrapped around the knob, still ready to leave. He couldn’t blame her if she did.

“Hey?” He touches her chin, making it impossible for her not to look at him. There’s a glimmer of anger in her eyes. These days, no matter what he does, he’s only making things worse. “Just one sunset. It promises to be pretty tonight.”

Wordlessly, she lets go, trots over to her chair, and sits down. She moves it away from his own, widening the distance. As soon as they’ve both settled, as soon as he dares, he reaches out to take her hand. She lets him hold it and he knows they will be okay again, in the end.

*

“We should have done it like this from the start,” Mulder says grinning up at Scully. She’s perched on his lap, her arms around his neck, and her head leaning against his. It won’t take long tonight, the sun in a hurry to set in the frosty autumn air.

“We weren’t ready then.” Scully’s giggle disappears into his neck where she nuzzles him with the tip of her freezing nose. He can’t wait to get back inside, to warm her up. Who needs sleeping bags when you have a warm bed and the hottest woman on earth?

“You’re not even looking at the sunset, Scully.”

“I’ve seen it before,” she says with a yawn.

“Are you tired? It’s only afternoon.”

“Well, we were busy last night.” Another giggle and a kiss against his jaw. He loves this Scully, the playful one. Sure, he loves every Scully he’s ever encountered; from the bossy badass to the one who needs help reaching the cupboards in his apartment.

“I plan on being busy again tonight,” he says into her hair.

“Can we skip the sunset tonight, Mulder? Maybe we can even see it from your bedroom.”

“You’re right. We should definitely check that theory.”

*

There are no certainties, only a sea full of possibilities, but Mulder knows this is the last time he’ll be sitting here, watching the sunset from the rooftop of his building. His bags are packed; everything he needs ready to start a new life somewhere else. Where that will be, he doesn’t yet know.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Scully says softly, cradling her heavy stomach. He can’t help but smile when he sees her, overcome with love for her and their baby. If only there wasn’t the nagging feeling of fear, too. What if they can’t keep their child safe? What if?

“I thought I’d say goodbye.”

“You don’t know that, Mulder.” She takes her hand in his, their fingers automatically entwining.

“Hmm,” he replies. He does know. This chapter is over. “We’ve had some good moments up here, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

“Sad ones, too.”

“No more sad ones,” she says, putting their entwined hands on her stomach.

If only life were that easier. But as he looks at the sky, the same sky it’s always been, the familiar colors that still find ways to surprise him now and then, he knows that they will be fine. No matter where he is, where she is, the sun will set every day, sleep, and rise again. There’s always going to be hope.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Mulder in the hospital in "Requiem", not Skinner.

He crashes through the door to her hospital room like a drunken man returning home. He stops there, panting and staring at her.

“Scully,” he says, her name spilling from his mouth like a question. “Are you okay?” He finds his voice along with his feet and walks over to her, taking her hand into his. Warm, he thinks. That must be a good sign.

“Why are you here?” she asks and it’s only now that he sees tears shimmering in her eyes. He wishes he’d never left. “I thought you and Skinner were already on your way to Oregon.”

“We were,” he says, stroking her hand. “Our flight was delayed. The Gunmen called Skinner as soon as you fainted. We were just about to board when he got the call.”

“You let him go alone?”

“No. I- um, I might have caused a slight ruckus at the airport and, um, we were asked to leave. He drove me here.”

“What kind of ruckus, Mulder?” Scully asks, amusement in her voice.

“That doesn’t matter now. You fainted. Did the doctor- what are they saying? Did they check you out? What is it, Scully? Is it-“ his voice cracks. On his way over here, the only thought that permeated his brain was that Scully was sick. Again. The cancer had returned. There was no other explanation. From her having the chills in Oregon, to staying in his arms all night, to fainting once, and now twice, the only possible truth is staring him in the face.

“They did,” Scully says, sounding calm. She puts her hand on his as if he were the one who’s sick, who needed to be comforted. “They ran some tests on me and there will be more but… I don’t know how to say this to you.” He watches her, tears burning in his eyes. She laughs, hiccups, all at once. Then her eyes settle on his. He braces himself for the impact. She’s fought it once, she can do it again. He will be there every step of the way, fighting with her.

“You can tell me.” The truth in a whisper.

“I’m having a hard time explaining it. Or believing it but, um…” she pauses and takes a deep breath. He stops breathing. His ears are ringing. He wishes he could close his eyes but he doesn’t even dare to blink.

“I’m, oh my God, Mulder, I’m pregnant.”

It takes him a moment. Maybe two. Probably even three. Then he realizes what she’s said. Pregnant. She is not dying, not at all.

“You’re-“

“I know we haven’t exactly talked about it again after the IVF but I-“

“I’ve never been so happy in my entire life, Scully.” He takes her into his arms, holds her tightly, albeit awkwardly on the small hospital bed. “You’re having a baby. It worked. We did it. You’re pregnant.” He starts peppering kisses on her cheeks, her throat, her neck. She giggles and it’s the most joyful sound in the world.

“You’re okay, right? And the baby? You’re both okay?” He puts his hand on her flat stomach.

“We’re okay. Are you… okay?”

“Me? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We never talked about what would happen if the IVF worked and then we started sleeping together and now…”

“And now we’ve got a little miracle growing inside you.” He beams at her.

“You’re happy.” It’s not a question.

“Scully, when I agreed to the IVF, I knew what I was saying yes to. I was all in from the get-go. I love you. I love you, and I love little Junior here. I’ve never been so happy to have missed a flight.” He leans closer and gently kisses her. He tastes tears and he can’t tell if they’re hers or his. For a moment he considers proposing to her. The question is sweet on his tongue, but he swallows it. There’s time.

“I love you, too, Mulder. I should have told you before you left, but I was-“

“Scully, you’ve been showing me every day that you love me. Not that I mean hearing it every now and then,” he finishes with a grin. “When can you leave? I’m taking you home.”

She chuckles. “In a couple of hours. I was going to call my mom but now that you’re here…”

“We have to tell your mom,” Mulder says slowly. “And Skinner.” 

“Are you ready for that?” she asks. He stares at her, at the full, rosy cheeks and the healthy glow about her he didn’t notice when he barged in. Right now, he is ready for just about everything.

“I’m ready when you are.” 

They’re doing this together.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to day 11: Mulder and Scully tell Mrs. Scully.

“When do you want to do it?” Mulder’s mouth is pressed against her bare, still flat stomach, his new favorite place.

“Do what?” She asks sleepily, running her fingers through his hair almost as an afterthought. She hasn’t stopped touching him ever since they’ve gone home from the hospital. Not that he minds.

“Tell people.”

“Mulder, there’s time.” Hesitation drips from her voice. What happened to being ready? He turns his head and rests his chin on her stomach.

“Nothing is going to go wrong, Scully,” he says.

“It might.”

“It won’t.”

“I don’t want to fight about this.”

“But we’re still telling your mom, right?” Last night on the phone with Skinner, when his boss asked about Scully’s health, Mulder had to bite his lip so hard that it almost started bleeding. He needs to tell someone before he spontaneously combusts.

“Yes, we’re telling her this Sunday. Why are you grinning, Mulder? What are you planning?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Mulder,” she warns.

“Just you wait and see,” he presses another kiss against her stomach. “Your mommy is so skeptical, little one.”

“It’s because I know you.”

“Trust me, Scully. You’ll love it, too.”

*

He lets Scully drive to her mother’s house, sensing that she needs to distract herself. He squeezes her knee to let her know he’s there with her, all the way. They’re in this together.

“How do you want to do it?” Mulder asks, unable to keep quiet any longer. She parks the car and looks at him.

“We’ll have dinner and then… I guess we’ll tell her then.”

His face falls and Scully smiles at him, touching his cheek. “Patience, Mulder, is a virtue.”

“One I do not possess. Oh look, your mom’s already waiting for us.”

“Let’s do this.”

Maggie Scully hugs them both, her daughter a moment longer than him. She’s all smiles and Mulder feels right at home. The house is warm, inviting. The few times he’s been here, it was for less joyous reasons. He tries not to think about the time Scully was convinced he had betrayed her. Or when he showed up drunk, after returning from California, with Scully still missing, trying to return her necklace to her mother, feeling like he no longer deserved to keep it. Today, he will make happy memories in Mrs. Scully’s house.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she says, touching Mulder’s arm.

“I am,” he assures her. “I feel like I could eat for two.” Scully glares at him and he gives her a sweet, sugary smile in return.

The two women make easy conversation while Mulder stuffs himself with potatoes. It’s not only because Mrs. Scully is an excellent cook. He just isn’t sure he can keep their news in any longer. Just as he’s about to bring another forkful of food to his mouth, Scully squeezes his knee under the table.

It’s time.

“Mom, there’s something we need to tell you.” She picked the perfect moment, knowing he would be busy chewing and trying not to choke on potatoes.

“Oh?” The older woman is smiling knowingly. “I know you and Fox are more than just friends, Dear. But thank you for telling me.”

“That’s not- wait, you knew?” Mulder uses Scully’s confusion to dash out of the dining room and get his little surprise out of his coat pocket.

“Dana, of course I knew,” Mrs. Scully says upon his return. He isn’t sure they even noticed he was gone.

He clears his throat and two sets of Scully eyes land on him. “There’s something else Dana and I want to tell you… we, um… we’re not just a couple. There’s going to be, well, there’s going to be someone who fits into this.”

Mulder’s hand shake as he unfolds the smallest garment he’s ever touched. It’s the softest too. The tiny dark blue onesie is adorned with the stars and the moon, the planets and rockets. When Mulder saw it on a grocery run, buying crackers for Scully, he stopped dead in his tracks. His arms full of food that threatened to slip, he stared at it, overwhelmed. 

In the hospital, Scully asked him if he was ready. He had said yes, not even thinking about it. Looking at that onesie, though, he realized the full impact of what was happening. They were going to be parents. There was going to be a baby, half Mulder and half Scully. A person in their own right, fitting into this tiny space onesie, occupying Mulder’s whole heart. 

He couldn’t wait to meet the little human they’d created.

Now, he puts the soft garment on the table and Mrs. Scully gasps, squeaks, before she and Dana are hugging fiercely, both crying happy tears. He watches, not feeling left out, knowing what it means to Scully.

“I’m so happy for you, Dana,” he hears and smiles.

“Mulder helped,” is the mumbled, half-hiccuped answer.

“Come here, Fox.”

“I’m okay, Mrs. Scully,”

“No more of that, Fox. I’m Maggie. Now get over here.” He does as he’s told, scared of her tone. He’s engulfed in love, in warmth and closes his eyes, letting it was over him.

“Good surprise?” he asks Scully, whispering it into her ear.

“The best surprise,” she replies.


	13. Mulder has amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder has an accident that leaves him a bit confused.

“Mulder, can you hear me?”

“Hm?” He moves his head to the side, and furrows his brows. He has yet to open his eyes though. To spur him on, Scully squeezes his hand.

“Mulder,” she says, trying not to be too impatient.

“I’m here,” he says, sounding awful, his eyes looking small and red. “Scully?” He stares at her, blinking a few times as if waking up from a nap. A quiet long nap, but he doesn’t know that yet. She gives him a genuine smile, unable to put into words how happy she is that he’s opened his eyes, that he’s speaking, that he’s here.

“Do you know where you are?”

He looks around and when he tries to sit up, he winces in pain, touching his bandaged head.

“Judging by the throbbing headache and the hip white interior design, I’d guess hospital.”

She nods at him, slowly. “Do you know what happened?” He stares at her blankly and finally shakes his head. She was afraid of that.

“Did I do something stupid?” At least he still knows himself. That’s comforting.

“You did,” she says with a sigh. “You ran a red light and got hit by a car.”

“But nothing hurts,” he says. “Except my head.”

“Wait a few hours.” She pets his arm, relieved that the painkillers are working.

“Why… why did I do that?”

Scully shrugs. “That’s only for you to know.”

“Oh. When can I go home?”

“They’re going to keep you overnight.” His face falls. “I’m going to stay here and make sure you don’t run into any more trouble. Do you remember anything from today?” He watches her and he doesn’t even need to say it. She sees it in his face, blank as a white page. All the memories they’ve made this morning, so vivid in her own mind, are now gone from his.

“Is that… is that normal, Scully? Me not remembering?”

“Well, yes and no. It’s normal for now. I’m hoping your confusion will clear in a few hours. It sounds like you might have a mild case of amnesia.”

He sighs and pouts at her. Scully stares at his lips, remembers tasting them for the first time this morning. Remembers the way Mulder smiled at her after, shy, yet happy. She mirrored his smile. Now, she bites her lip, trying to be more his doctor, less his frustrated partner.

“What if I don’t remember?” Then we’ll just have to kiss again, Scully thinks, immediately dismissing her thought. Mulder is in pain and all she can think about is his kiss. Now that Mulder is awake, her brain insists on thinking about that moment. The moment in their office this morning. She brought Mulder coffee and a slice of cake, wishing him a happy birthday. One thing led to another, and for once, nothing got in the way. No bees, no exes, no doubts. Until Skinner called, that is. That was the last time she saw Mulder before they called her from the hospital. 

“You will,” she says, for once being the believer to his skeptic. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Hm”, he says, closing his eyes again, seemingly to concentrate. She hopes he doesn’t fall asleep on her. “Oh Scully, I’m sorry.” His eyes snap open. 

“Sorry? For what?”

“For ruining your birthday.”

“Excuse me?”

“Today’s your birthday,” Mulder explains. “I remember now.”

“Oh Mulder,” she says, a half desperate laugh slipping from her lips. “It’s not my birthday today.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “Today’s your birthday.”

“Mine?” He points at his chest. “I remember cake. There was cake?”

“I brought you a slice of cake.”

“I feel… is there anything else I’m forgetting?” His eyes are intense, asking her. How easy it would be to say the words. We kissed. But selfishly, she wants him to remember on his own. They’ve waited this long. She can wait another few hours for his brain to catch up.

“Nothing else,” she replies softly. “You’ll remember when you’re ready.”


	14. Missing scene for "Three Words"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully talk some more in "Three Words"

Mulder’s words ring in her ears as she observes him looking anywhere but at her. It hurts. Seeing him like this, unable to reach him, feels like losing him all over again. And she’s so tired of losing.

“I guess,” she starts, swallowing the painful lump in her throat, all her emotions. “I guess I’ll go home.” She eyes him, hopes for a reaction. As much as she doesn’t want to leave, she doesn’t want him to feel pressured to keep her around. These days, she takes up so much space, and Mulder’s new world is still small, still upside down.

“See you tomorrow?” she asks, hating how needy she sounds. But she is. Her hands are balled into fists and her nails dig into her skin. She knows Mulder is in there, her Mulder. Stitched together, with the scars to prove it, he’s still healing. There are still echoes of terror in his eyes, darker than she’s ever seen them. Still, underneath all this, there’s the man she loves.

“Huh?” He turns to her, somewhat confused, searching for her eyes. Has he not been listening to her at all? Another wave of hurt washes over her, leaving her dizzy. She should sit down, but she doesn’t want Mulder to make the wrong assumptions.

“I said see you tomorrow,” she repeats, her voice sounding far away to her ears. Her feet feel larger than they should. Her vision blackens at the edges and she reaches out into nothingness, searching for something to hold on to.

“Hey, hey,” Mulder says, rushing over to her. He no longer smells like the earth he was buried under, or the hospital. He smells like himself, like Mulder. Slightly salty from when he cracked a few sunflower seeds in the car over here. She smiles, tears pressing against her eyes, overwhelmed that he’s here.

“Hey, don’t faint on me, Scully.” His hand lands on her lower back and she gasps. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she says weakly. “I just- I need to sit down.” He leads her over to the couch and as soon as she sits, as soon as he helps her elevate her legs, she starts feeling better. “Thank you,” she says, leaning back against the headrest.

“Is that- does that happen often? Are you okay? Is the- the- the baby okay?” She catches him glance at her stomach, sees his hand twitch out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m fine.” He throws her a look. “I mean it, Mulder. I shouldn’t be standing for long periods of time. I haven’t eaten in a while either.”

“I always said you need to eat more,” he mumbles, still glancing at her stomach that sits between them, keeping them apart.

“You did,” she says with a smile, remembering.

“I’d offer you something but… it doesn’t really feel like my place anymore. This apartment.”

“Mulder, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

He shakes his head slowly. “I meant it. When I said I don’t know where I fit it. Everything is the same and I’m – I’m not. My apartment is still here. It looks like I’ve never left. And you-“ She prepares herself for another blow but it doesn’t come. Mulder’s eyes soften and his lips twitch into a small smile.

“Every day when I was on that ship, all I wanted was to see you. It’s always you, Scully. When I wake up in a hospital, or after you shoot me,” he says and his whole face lights up for the first time since he’s come back, “I always look for you. I know everything will be okay because you’re there.”

She only knows that she’s crying because she tastes the salty tears on her lips when she whispers his name.

“I thought I was okay when I saw you. And then… then I saw how much time had passed. What I’d missed. Scully, what if I’m not going to be okay this time? What if I can’t catch up? There’s so little time.”

“Mulder, there’s all the time in the world,” she assures him, taking his hand into hers.

“Scully, no offense, but you’re about ready to pop.”

“I don’t expect you to be overjoyed and ready to jump into fa- into anything.”

“You know me,” he says and his hand, shaky, hovers over her stomach. “I like to jump into everything. I’ve just- this is huge.”

“Gee, Mulder, thanks for the flattery. The baby is a bit, um, large.”

“I didn’t mean your stomach, Scully,” he says, looking apologetic. “I meant this,” he gestures wildly. “The situation. I’m still just trying to catch up.”

“One step at a time, Mulder.”

“Can I touch you – can I touch?”

She nods, her lips quivering. His hand lands on her stomach, finally, and she watches him through her tears, watches how awed he is, how his fingers travel along her body, needing to feel it again, to learn it again in this new way. 

“I can’t believe this is real.” His voice is awe-struck. “This is real, right? The kid’s healthy?”

“Real and healthy.” She puts her hand on his. “He’s yours,” she adds, needing to say it, needing him to know.

He smiles. He knew.


	15. Mulder and Scully get married after IWTB with William as a tiny ring bearer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William was never given up for adoption and he's around when Mulder and Scully decide to tie the knot after IWTB.

Mulder hangs up the phone and turns to her, his expression unreadable. She bites her lip, waiting for him to say something. When he stays quiet, just stares, she gets nervous.

“Mulder, just tell me,” she pleads.

“Fox Mulder has been exonerated,” he says, sounding amazed. Tension falls from her body and catapults her into Mulder’s arms. He huffs as he catches her, his arms going around her and holding her close. “I’m a free man again, Scully. No more hiding. Not that I’ve ever been good at it.”

She looks up at him, beaming. The tears swimming in her eyes are happy ones. “What’s the first thing you want to do now that you’re free?”

“I want to get married,” he says matter-of-factly, rendering her speechless.

They’ve talked about marriage only one time, early during their time on the run. It was another seedy hotel in the middle of nowhere, seething with heat. Their sweaty, naked bodies pressed together, but neither had been willing to let go. William, still a baby, was asleep in his portable crib, one of the only constants in his young life at that time. Mulder had peppered open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone, whispering how much he loved her, promising her it was worth it.

“I’ll never leave again, Scully,” he’d said, his eyes deep, dark pools. “This is it. And one day, when this is over, and you will have me, I want to marry you.”

“I love you, Mulder,” she’d replied, her fingers stroking his back, “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Now, years later, half a life already lived, she stares up at him, mouth open. She should have known that he wouldn’t forget it, that he was dead serious when he said it. There’s only one answer she can give him. Because it has never changed, not even for a second.

“Let’s get married.”

Neither of them wants a big wedding. William, their little know-it-all, asks why they have to get married at all. In reality, he just doesn’t want to wear a tux. A sentiment he and Mulder share. Her mother is ecstatic and Skinner – who would have thought – turns out to be a softie, offering to throw them a party. In the end, they opt to use her mother’s house for the wedding reception.

There’s a cute church close by, one Scully has always admired. Everything falls into place so easily that she doesn’t trust it at first, looks behind every corner, waiting for the blow. It doesn’t come. She, her mother and Monica go shopping for a wedding dress. There’s cake, there are tears and a moment to remember Missy, who should have been here with them.

On their big day, the sky is clear, the air crisp. Foliage covers the church garden, immersing it in a confetti of fall colors. Unlike her sister, Scully has never dreamed of her wedding as a young girl. She’d considered it as something one would just do, a mere rite of passage. Then, as she got older, the concept lost all appeal to her. Until Mulder. She doesn’t need a piece of paper or a ring to know that he’s hers, that she’s his. It’s been an unspoken agreement for years, a union of soul and will. But as she stands here, the soft breeze catching in her wedding dress, lifting it slightly, she realizes she wants to be bound to him in the eyes of her God. 

For once, Mulder and Scully do something by the book.

Inside, Mulder waits for her at the altar. When he turns to her, taking her in, slowly striding towards him, his lips curl upwards. _Agent Mulder, I’m Dana Scully. I’ve been assigned to work with you. Oh, isn’t it nice to be suddenly so highly regarded? Who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?_ She journeys through their life together with every step she takes, never taking her eyes off him. The good moments, and the bad. They’ve all brought them here.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Scully,” he says when she reaches him. He kisses her cheek softly, taking her hand.

In the end, she doesn’t remember what was said, her eyes transfixed on Mulder. They’ve never needed to say these things to each other. Not with words. He repeats them to her now, as she does to him, through her eyes.

“Who has the rings?” The questions takes her out of her trance and she watches as William, with precise, careful steps, carries a small blue pillow with their simple wedding bands. His tongue is sticking out in concentration; his tux is too big, the pants almost covering his sneakers. Scully’s eyes fill with tears. Their son holds the pillow up and his eyes dart between them. He looks like the mini Mulder he and gives her his most infectious grin. He is the cutest ring bearer she’s ever seen (though she might be biased).

“Do they have to kiss now? Ew!” He says and makes everyone laugh. When they do kiss, finally, the wedding party cheers and claps. Mulder’s lips against hers speak of love and taste familiar.

“I know you’re my wife now but you’re still my Scully,” he whispers against her mouth.

“That’s good because you’ll always be my Mulder.”


	16. Fluffy hurt/comfort during "Nothing Lasts Forever"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder takes Scully home with him after her fall.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?” Mulder asks from the kitchen, putting on the kettle for tea.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” Scully replies from the couch in the living room, a sigh implied. “I’m just sore and tired.” She sounds like it too. He can’t blame her. You don’t fall down into trash every day, especially at their ages. That’s why he would have preferred to take her to a hospital. They compromised, though, and that’s why she’s here, at their home. 

“Did the shower help at all?” He gets on his knees so he’s face to face with her laying on the couch. Her eyes are so small that he’s surprised they’re still open. He touches her shoulder, strokes it gently, and moves his fingers along down her arm.

“Hmm, a bit,” she says, smiling dreamily. He can’t tell whether she’s remembering the hot shower or enjoying his touch. He hopes it’s the latter.

“Did you take the ibuprofen?” he asks, kissing her temple. She’s warm there.

“I did. Are you my doctor now?” Her sleepy voice asks. He smiles at her but bites his lip. Tonight, he won’t make questionable jokes about playing doctor together. Maybe tomorrow.

“More like your favorite Nurse Mulder.”

“I like that,” she says, nuzzling against his hand comfortably, like a touch-starved kitten. He doesn’t want to stop touching her and he doesn’t give a damn that his knees hate him for this uncomfortable position. Scully is all that matters. The kettle whistles angrily in the kitchen, though, and Mulder tears himself away from Scully.

“What tea do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

Good for her that he only ever buys tea that she likes. In case she stays over. If the years have taught him anything, it’s to be prepared. He stares at the different types for a moment and picks ginger tea. He briefly considers making himself a cup, but decides that he might just steal a sip from Scully instead.

“I hope you like ginger, Scully,” he tells her, looking for her favorite cup. It’s an old one they found at a flea market once. Scully told him a story about her grandmother, how she had tableware that looked just like it. He wished they’d had more. They’d left with two cups and three plates that day. He only uses them on special occasions, like today when Scully is here, at home.

“You know what you said earlier – when you said that ten years worth of trash broke your fall? Remember that case in um, Chicago with that guy… what was his name? My memory isn’t what it used to be, Scully. Soon it won’t be just glasses I need. Anyway, that guy never ran out of luck. Meanwhile, I was still trying to make a move on you and then,” he stops and chuckles, “then I tried to be cool and manly and fix that sink. Do you remember, Scully? I fell through the floor and my ass broke the fall too.” He’s still chuckling as he carries her tea over, softly blowing on it.

“Do you remember that?” But when he looks at her, he sees that she doesn’t. She hasn’t even heard him. Her hands are folded under her cheek and her eyes are closed, her lips just slightly open. His Scully is asleep. He puts the tea on the coffee table and touches her.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispers close to her ear.

“Hmm,” she grumbles.

“Time for bed.”

“Can’t get up,” she mumbles into the pillow.

“You don’t have to,” he says and easily picks her up. One eye snaps open to look at him.

“You’re only going to throw your back out.”

“Fine by me,” he says, carrying her upstairs. “We can take turns taking care of our old, decaying bodies.”


	17. Scully asks for reassignment after the "making it personal" conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skinner muses about his two agents when Scully asks for a reassignment.

“Sir.” Agent Scully stands in front of his desk, taking up more space than he thought possible. Without Mulder by her side, she should seem smaller. It’s the opposite.

She arrived for their appointment on the dot. A true Navy brat, down to her core that’s protected by her perfectly tailored, perfectly professional suits. He should know, his aunt was a seamstress. He would recognize quality of fabric, in sewing everywhere.

“What is this, Agent Scully?” He asks her now, adjusting his glasses.

“I think my expertise could be of value in other departments, Sir.”

“And Agent Mulder? What does he think?” For the first time since she’s entered his office, her mask of determination slips. Her lip twitches and her eyes move away from his. But only for a second. She touches her hair as if a lock had come lose. As if. There’s not a hair out of place. She stands up straighter, her blue eyes like osmium.

“I have not discussed it with Agent Mulder, Sir. This is my decision.”

How often has he puzzled what’s made her stay. Now, he can’t help but wonder what makes her leave. What has Mulder said this time? What has he done? How many times can you run off and think nothing has changed, nothing has broken, upon your return?

He has a soft spot for both agents, for this division that everyone ridicules – or dismisses right away. Spooky Mulder and his little Miss Skeptic. They call her hundreds of different things and never her name.

He detests the way these agents look at her, a hen among foxes. He doesn’t trust any of them. Not even the one fox that walks alongside her, shielding her from the others.

“I will consider it,” he says, his voice going soft despite his efforts. He wears his own masks, keeps his own secrets in his coat pockets. He’s soft. Too soft, as his father used to say, while his mother kept him under her wing. He’s steeled himself, has grown strong on the outside, and on the inside… he’s still Walt. That man looks at this woman now, one he admires and loves in a way that he thinks he would a daughter.

He sees the pain behind her mask. Betrayal. It makes his blood boil. As much as he wants her to leave here, to do something else, have another partner by her side who values her, he knows it’s not what she wants. He will find out what Mulder has done this time. Maybe even rough him up a little. God knows he deserves it.

“Thank you,” Scully says and gives him a clipped nod.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you for your time.” She leaves and he shouldn’t, but he watches her. He can still hear the angry click of her heels after she’s left his office. He sighs, stares at the paper in front of him. How easy it would be to grant her this. But he thinks of her eyes, thinks of Mulder in the hospital when his partner was dying. He takes the document, gives it one more look, and puts it in the shredder.

He picks up the phone and calls Kimberly. “Please make an appointment with Agent Mulder tomorrow. Don’t call him today. Tomorrow.”

“Just Agent Mulder, Sir?” They’re a package deal, Mulder and Scully.

“Just Agent Mulder. Thank you.”

They’ll have a talk, man to man.


	18. Why is so Scully so happy at the beginning of "Je Souhaite"?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a morning with Mulder and Scully, a pre-ep for "Je Souhaite".

“Hmmm, what time is it?” Mulder’s stubbly jaw scrapes across her chest, causing goosebumps to explode all over her skin. She giggles, barely awake, her eyes still closed. She loves his scratchy morning voice; it’s become her favorite wake-up call. Of course, she’s heard it a million times before. But lately, she gets to hear it with his body pressed intimately to hers. 

“It’s still dark outside,” she mumbles, unwilling to leave this warm cocoon of love they’ve created.

“It’s almost 6 am, Scully,” Mulder says, covering every inch of bare skin with good morning kisses. And there’s a lot of bare skin this morning, both of them too lazy to get dressed again after round two last night. A blush reaches across her collarbone as she remembers their middle of the night lovemaking.

“Just five more minutes.”

“You always say that,” he says, taking her earlobe between his teeth and biting gently. “You’re the cutest little morning grouch.”

“Am not. Mulder, why can’t we just sleep an hour longer? We don’t even have any cases at the moment.” She still hasn’t fully opened her eyes, still in denial that it’s morning. He’s right about her; she is not a morning person.

“An hour? First you ask for five minutes and now you want a whole hour,” he marvels. “What will it be next? A whole day off?”

How can Mulder be so chipper in the morning? The man barely sleeps. As soon as Mulder opens his eyes, he is awake. Unlike her. She likes to ease into her day, wake up slowly, take her time. Mulder is either dead to the world or wide awake. There’s no in-between. But right now, he is in between her and much-needed, very much wanted, sleep. 

“Mulder,” she complains. He tightens his arm around her and puts his chin on her shoulder. She feels him watching her with curious eyes, a forest full of mysteries. She cracks one eye open, just to lose herself in his gaze.

“Morning,” he says with a grin.

“Does it have to be morning?”

He chuckles and starts kissing her again. He does make a compelling case for staying awake, she thinks, as she sighs in contentment.

“How about I make you a deal,” he murmurs against her skin, his tongue playing catch the freckle. She’d laughed at him when he admitted it three nights ago. He’d kissed that kiss right off her, and then some.

“What kind of deal?” She asks in spite of herself.

“I’m going to show you a very good morning,” he says, his lips traveling down her body, “and then…,” he trails off, losing his train of thought while she loses her whole mind when his lips graze her clit.

“And then what?” she asks, breathing hard, lifting her head to look at him, his face between her legs. His own breath tickles her most sensitive parts, driving her insane with need and arousal.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he admits with a sheepish grin.

“I’ll make you a deal, Mulder,” she says. “First, you’re going to wish me a very good morning with your tongue.” He licks his lip slowly, as if to agree with her – or tease her. “Then I’ll wish you a good morning in return.”

“How?” He asks, interrupting her, panting like a puppy.

“Your choice,” she replies and his eyes grow big. “But then you give me an extra hour of sleep.”

“It’s a deal.”

That’s why Scully arrives at the office an hour after Mulder that morning, pleasantly sated and well-rested.


	19. An accidental love confession in "Amor Fati"

When Scully returns to his apartment hours later, he is no longer wearing his cap or his tie. The bandage, however, still sits around his head, the only evidence left of what’s happened to him. 

“I brought food,” she says, holding up the bag full of Mulder’s favorite dishes from the Thai place around the corner. His eyes light up when he looks into the bag.

He licks his lips. “Hmm, Scully, you know what I like. Come inside.”

She toes off her shoes at the door, knowing she’ll be here a while. Outside, it’s slowly growing dark; cold, too. The days are getting shorter again. She listens to Mulder put out plates and mumble to himself. She can’t hear what he’s saying but it makes her smile. She’s missed him at work today. But she can’t tell him that. It will only make him want to come back even sooner. No matter what he says, he needs his rest. His brilliant mind needs to heal.

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder says from the kitchen, more to himself than to her, his voice making her name sound like a revelation. She blushes slightly, taking her time taking off her coat. Should she even take off her coat? His apartment is warm, cozy. She’s been looking forward to returning here all day. As much work as she gets done without Mulder there, the office feels cold without him. His irritating sunflower seed chewing, his finger drumming, his ramblings. It’s part of their basement office, part of her life. 

“I hope you’re not hungry,” he says as he passes her by, carrying several plates, looking like a waiter. “Cause I am.”

She chuckles and follows him. The TV is on but muted. There’s some old movie flickering over the screen, looking familiar.

“Sit,” he says, smiling.

“You’re in a good mood.” She sits on his worn leather couch, feeling right at home. When he sits down next to her, their thighs almost, but not quite, touching, she knows this is where she belongs right this moment.

“I have the two things I love the most right here by my side.” His smile is still in place. Unlike the bandage on his head; it’s slipping over his brow and she reaches out to adjust it. “Thai food and you.”

“Huh?” she says, temporarily forgetting what he is talking about. What he says next takes her breath away, stills the hand that’s still on his forehead.

“I love you, Scully.”

She’s frozen in the moment, a picture of bewilderment.

“Close your mouth,” he says softly. “I love you,” he repeats, more gently this time. “I didn’t mean to say it today. It just slipped out.”

“Mulder…”

“I’m not drugged,” he interrupts her. “And despite this,” he puts his hand over hers, still pressing against his forehead, “I know what I’m saying. Just because I didn’t mean to say it now, doesn’t mean I don’t mean it. Do you believe me this rime or do I have to wait another year to try again? Do I get another ‘oh brother’?” He smirks at her.

“I’m surprised you remember that,” she mumbles, stalling. “You were high as a kite.”

“Hm, I wasn’t. I think- I think you weren’t ready to hear it then.” He leaves the rest unspoken, but his eyes remain on hers, asking anyway. Is she ready now? Her heart has known the answer for a while. When Mulder uttered the words last year, she knew it, too. But he’s right (damn him for being right about this). She wasn’t ready then. She ran. From him and from her own unspoken, unfelt feelings.

And now?

“I’m ready,” she whispers. “To hear the words, I just…”

“You’re not ready to say them back.” She looks at him, fears to see disappointment in his face. Instead, he gifts her a beautiful, warm smile. “I know that, Scully. I’m a patient man.”

She snorts. "Since when?”

“Since you,” he says, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing each finger. Her breath catches in her throat. “Now let’s eat before it gets cold, hm? I wasn’t kidding when I said I was starving.”

She leans forward to pick up her plate. When she sits back, she makes sure she sits closer to him, their thigh pressed together. Mulder looks at her, the love he just confessed evident on his face. Maybe he is a patient man after all.


	20. Post season 11: "I can't do this"

The smell of grime clings to his skin, the smell of death and defeat, even after his shower. He crawls into bed next to Scully, wanting to hold her, to be held, but unsure if it’s what she wants. Or needs. Can she smell him? Is she repulsed by him? He turns on his side, his hand under his cheek, and looks at her. She’s staring at the ceiling, lost in her own world, somewhere he is not.

“Hey,” he says, cutting through the silence. “How are you feeling?”

She doesn’t answer right away. For all he knows, she could be asleep. Her breathing is even, sounds steady. Everything about her is still.

“I don’t know,” she answers in a soft voice that sounds so much younger than her years. He thinks of her as a young agent, his freckled-faced, fresh new partner that promised him that she wasn’t part of any agenda, that she wouldn’t put herself for anyone on the line but him. He thinks of her years later, her freckles hidden under make-up, her freshness traded for experience. The way she sacrificed herself for him, for this life they’ve shared, for the elusive truth. And for the life they’ve created.

Against all odds, they’re still here. And against all odds, they’ve created another life.

“I don’t know if I can… what if…,” she trails off, taking a deep breath. He watches her, waiting. He feels her pain in his own body, from his teeth to his toes.

“I can’t do this,” she finishes, turning over to face him.

“You’re not alone in this,” he reminds her, his hand reaching for hers.

“I know but Mulder… I’m at an age where,” she sighs. “This shouldn’t be possible.”

“We’ve always had a penchant for the improbable and the impossible, haven’t we?” He nudges her, hoping for a smile from her. She tries to give him one. It dies halfway between her mouth and eyes.

He turns serious, interlaces their fingers. How did they get from cuddling on a fold-out couch, their lives falling back into place, to here, where everything is breaking apart?

“Scully, I’m here for you. For whatever you decide to do.”

“I’m scared, Mulder.” Her voice shakes and he draws her closer to him, so they’re pressed together, skin to skin, heart to heart. “I’m just scared.”

“Shh, I know. I’m scared, too. We don’t have to make any decisions tonight, okay?” She nods against his arm, letting herself be held. “Just know one thing. Whatever it is, you can do anything. You’re Dana Katharine Scully, medical doctor and badass partner of mine. Love of my life, too, while we’re at it. If you’re scared that you’re too old or that you don’t deserve this because of our son…” He could give her a million reasons. All he needs her to know is that he’s here. 

“Thank you, Mulder,” she says and this time the smile reaches her eyes. “We will figure this out, right?”

“It’s like you said, Scully,” he says, kissing the corner of her mouth, “we’ll think of something.”


	21. "Per Manum"/ish: what happens after the embryo transfer?

“Mulder,” she says, suppressing a giggle, “I’m not made of glass.”

But she’s wrong there, he thinks, as he keeps his arms around, leading her inside her apartment by taking tiny steps as if he’d just learned to walk. In many ways, he feels like he has. There’s precious cargo between them. Right now, at this very moment, her egg and his sperm are getting to know each other, deciding whether or not there’s a future for them. Mulder, always the believer, hopes there is.

“Osteogenesis imperfecta is a serious condition, Scully.”

“I know that, Mulder,” she says. “However, it’s not a condition I have. I’m just…”

“Trying to grow a baby,” he finishes for her, biting his bottom lip. Before Scully asked him, children never crossed his mind. Well, once. A small girl with a winning smile, so much like her mother’s, took his heart hostage. She would have convinced him, too, that this was a life he wanted. Just by smiling. But that story wasn’t to be. This one, though, is still being written.

“Yes. That.” She moves away from him with a blush on her face. She let him drive her to her appointment and pick her up from the procedure. He’d offered to stay with her but she’d declined. So he’d waited in the car, pretending to read a magazine, when in reality he was itching to be in the room with her, to see the procedure first hand. But he’s prepared for the After. He’s read all the books and brochures.

“You know you need rest. That’s why I’m here.” Her raised eyebrows amuse him but he keeps talking. “Let me pamper you. Please. Just for the weekend.” She’s still skeptical. Not that he would have expected anything different from her.

“Just this weekend,” she says, almost warningly.

“Thank you.” He grabs her shoulders and steers her towards the couch. “Keep your feet up, Scully, and relax.”

“You know that the embryo is not going to fall out, right?”

“I know that. Still. It can’t harm to keep your legs up.” She giggles again and he cherishes the sound, hoping he gets to hear it all weekend.

“So, Mulder, what fun things have you planned for us? Did you bring any X-Files to look through?”

He shakes his head. “No work this weekend. Just good food, lots of rest, and movies.”

“You’re serious,” she says, slightly shaking her head.

“Of course I am. So, what are you in the mood for?”

She just smiles at him.

A few hours later, Scully’s feet are in Mulder’s lap, his arm casually resting on her legs. Both are pleasantly full and Mulder keeps stealing glances at Scully, wondering how much longer she can stay awake. He knows her too well. He deliberately picked movies that would lull her into a peaceful slumber without her trying – and eventually failing – to keep awake to see the ending.

Mulder checks the time. As much as he wants to let her rest, he knows she won’t forgive him if he lets her sleep before she’s taken her meds. He squeezes her ankle and she glares at him.

“I thought I was supposed to rest,” she mumbles.

“Yes, and you can, but you need to take your meds first. Come on.” Like a child, she lets herself be led to the bathroom. Mulder can’t stop himself and puts his arm around her shoulders. He wants to be close. He needs to feel like his part isn’t over yet.

He watches her take her pills and wash them down with water. She’s been doing this for weeks. Sometimes, while on a case, or even at the office, he’s witnessed it. Before today, she always tried to hide it, keep it away from him, and not discuss it. He keeps quiet, stands stock still in case she’s merely forgotten him here with her. That is until she unwraps a new syringe.

“I can help you with that,” he says and hopes his voice isn’t as shaky as he feels.

Scully turns to him. “Mulder, I appreciate the help, I really do. I can do this by myself. I’ve done it before.”

“I just- is it okay if I stay?”

Her eyes grow wide for a moment before she relaxes, a soft smile appearing on her face. “You can stay. But I thought you didn’t like needles.” With perfect precision, she lifts her top, uncaps the syringe, and grabs her belly. Mulder watches in amazement. The needle goes in and it’s him who winces.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, grimacing.

“Yes,” she says and he is surprised by her honesty. “But it’s okay. You get used to it.”

He simply nods, wishing she didn’t have to get used to it. He wishes she could have done this the easy way. Don’t they deserve a break?

“I’m done,” she says sheepishly, touching his hand.

“Back to the couch or bed?” he asks.

“Bed.”

Mulder turns off the TV in the living room while Scully changes in the bedroom. He takes his time. He glances at the couch, knows that it’s much too small for his frame. But there’s no way he’s leaving her alone this weekend. Her bedroom door is ajar and he knocks softly, hoping she’s decent.

“Come in.” She is sitting up in bed and for a second he has a flashback to her in the hospital during her cancer treatment. He swallows his emotions and his memories.

“Um, I’ll be out on the couch,” he says. “In case you need anything.”

“Thank you, Mulder. For everything you’ve done today. And well, before today.”

“My pleasure,” he replies. “Both times. Good night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

At the door, he turns to her one more time. “Can you promise me something?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says immediately as if she doesn’t even need to think about it. “What is it?”

“I read that, um- if you experience any abdominal pain, any nausea, vomiting, or diarrhea, please wake me? Don’t… don’t think you have to do this alone, please.”

“I promise,” she says, her voice sounding choked. “Mulder? Why don’t you… my bed is big enough for the both of us and I don’t want you out there worrying.”

It’s just like that. She knows him as well as he knows her. Two halves of a whole. He can’t hide his smile or his giddiness. Dear diary, he thinks as he takes off his jeans, today Agent Scully offered to share her bed.

When he falls asleep, to the lullaby of Scully’s even breathing, he thinks of babies, cherub-cheeked and red-headed, with a mouth like his, and eyes like hers.


	22. An awkward first date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully go on a date and it doesn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also part of the awkward first date challenge so don't be surprised when you see this as its own stand-alone story!

He should have bought her flowers. That’s his first thought as he knocks on Scully’s front door at 7 pm sharp. He’s made sure to be on time, sitting in his car for an additional five minutes. Standing here, feeling like a child who is anxious to see if their best friend will come out to play, he realizes how ridiculous the whole situation is.

It started as a joke. Or half a joke, really. Last Monday, Scully’s mom called her at the office. That alone is noteworthy as Mrs. Scully usually refrains from doing so. He tried not to eavesdrop, but it was impossible. He pretended to work while stealing glances at Scully, wrapping the phone cord around her finger, her face beet-red.

“No, mom, I don’t need you to make dates for me,” she’d said through gritted teeth. “Can we please discuss this Friday night? I’m at work.” Oh, how he’d wished he could have heard Mrs. Scully reply to that. A moment later, though, Scully sighed in relief and hung up the phone.

“Mom trouble?” He’d asked with a soft smile.

“You could say that.”

“You know,” he’d said, chewing on his pen, “how about we go on a date Friday night? You could call your mom and say you’re busy after all.”

“Are you serious?”

He had been. At that moment he had been dead serious. He had been thinking about their baseball quasi date and how he couldn’t wait to repeat that.

“Yes. I know the perfect place. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“Well… okay.” 

And that’s how he finds himself here, heart pounding, his flowerless hands sweaty, ready to take Scully on their first date.

“Mulder, hi.” Scully opens the door and the synapses in his brain collapse. She’s wearing a black strappy dress that hugs all the curves he knows are there (he’s felt them) but hardly ever sees.

A “wow” slips from his mouth unasked and Scully throws him a shy smile over her shoulder. Staring at her, and he can’t stop taking her in, taking mental pictures for himself, he feels utterly overwhelmed. And so very underdressed. He’s wearing black jeans and a blue dress shirt.

“You look good too,” she says anyway, picking up her purse. “Ready to go?”

“S-sure.” He puts his hand on the small of her back, simply out of habit. Heat shoots through his whole body as his fingers meet the next to nothing fabric. He feels her muscles with every step they take.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a- a surprise. You’ll like it.”

Or at least he hopes she will.

*

“I’m sorry, Mr.-“

“Mulder,” he says, keeping his voice down. “I had a reservation for 7 pm. Fox Mulder.” He flashes his badge, hoping that it will impress the hostess. It doesn’t.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mulder, but there is no reservation under that name. You could wait at the bar and you will get the next free table.”

“Let’s do that,” Scully says, tugging at his sleeve. “We’ll wait.”

“I’m sorry, Scully,” he says when they sit down.

“It’s not your fault.” She reaches for the small nut bowl, shoving a few into her mouth.

“You’re hungry.”

“A bit,” she admits. She touches his arm and squeezes. “I can wait. So how about you tell me what-“

“Fox,” a voice screeches near them. “Fox Mulder?” They both turn towards the woman, a tall brunette and with eyebrows shot so high they almost reach her hairline. She’s clinging to the arm of a man who clearly has a reservation here. One that didn’t get lost. She stalks over to them, obviously knowing him.

“It is you,” she says. There’s no warmth in her voice. No friendliness at all. He tries to place her – her face looks vaguely familiar – but nothing comes to mind.

“Hello,” he says with a shaky smile. Her own smile falls when she notices Scully next to him.

“Oh, I see,” she says. “You never call me back but you go out with- with someone like her?” He glances at Scully, who clears her throat, and licks her lip. He can’t tell whether she’s amused or pissed. Maybe she’s both.

“I don’t – aren’t you on a date yourself?”

“Oh, you mean David? Well.” She winks at him before she remembers that she hates him apparently. She ignores Mulder and turns to Scully. “He used to ask me out for dates, you know. Before you.” Mulder is still watching Scully and now he knows she’s amused. She’s biting her bottom lip. Hard. “Good luck with him. Bye, Fox.” She quickly turns on her heels and joins the other man who throws him dirty looks.

“Scully, I am so sorry, I – are you laughing?”

She is. She’s trying to stifle it but there’s no denying it. She’s laughing, tears rolling down her face.

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Mulder mumbles, taking a peanut and crushing it between his fingers. “I don’t even know who she is.”

“Well, she obviously knows who you are. I’m sorry, Mulder. I just didn’t expect – she was so angry.”

“I wasn’t dating her,” he says. “I really have no idea who she is. It must have been…” he thinks back, tries to remember the last time he even tried dating. Right after they lost the X-Files for the first time. He’s flirted a bit here and there, missing Scully and not admitting it to himself.

“You’re free to date whoever you want, Mulder.” She is no longer laughing. Her voice is soft and serious. So are her eyes.

“I don’t want to date,” he says firmly. Anyone but you, he adds in his head.

“She’s still staring at us.”

“Is she?” He doesn’t want to check.

“Mulder, I know you had plans tonight but… how about we go somewhere else?”

“You’re really that hungry?” He stares at the small bowl next to her. It’s almost empty. “Let’s go.”

As it turns out, the whole city is on a date tonight. They can’t find a table anywhere. Meanwhile, Scully’s stomach is protesting loudly to the lack of food.

“I have an idea,” Scully says. She’s shivering. She obviously hadn’t planned on spending their date running from one restaurant to another. “Let’s just pick something up and go to my place.”

He nods. “How does Mexican sound to you?”

She sighs. “It sounds wonderful.”

They each carry a bag of food when they arrive at Scully’s. She moans when she takes off her shoes and his cock has definitely heard it. It twitches in his pants and he wishes he’d worn something with more wiggle room.

“I’ll get plates,” she says and hands him her bag.

Five minutes later, they’re eating. Or Scully is. Because Mulder can’t stop watching the way she’s shoveling food into her mouth.

“Wow,” he says for the second time tonight.

“I’m hungry,” she says, coloring slightly, her mouth full. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Nervous because of our date?” He jokes though he’s only half kidding. He’s been on edge all day.

“Maybe,” she admits, not looking at him. 

“Scully, I don’t know if I should tell you this but…,” she looks up at him, her cheeks looking like a chipmunk’s. “You eating all that food is… hot at hell.” He’s glad she can’t answer right away.

“You’ve seen me eat before.”

“Not like this,” he says with a soft chuckle, still watching her in amazement.

“Why did you ask me out, Mulder?” She asks, changing the subject. She takes a napkin and wipes her mouth.

“Because of that phone call with your mom,” he says. It’s half the truth.

“I thought so,” she says and does he imagine it, or does she sound sad? She picks up her fork again and just as she’s about to bring it to her mouth, he stops her.

“Not just because of it,” he says, his heart pounding in his chest. “I wanted to take you out on a date. I’m sorry it didn’t happen. This was probably the worst first date ever, huh?” He gives her a lopsided smile.

“Mulder,” she says with a sigh, putting down the fork. “This wasn’t out first date.”

“What?”

She chuckles and takes his hand into hers. “We’ve been on so many dates. And what about when we played baseball last week?”

“That counts?” She nods. “Good. Cause then I take it back. We had the best first date ever.”

“Not quite,” she says, biting her lip. It’s driving him crazy.

“No?”

“A great first date usually ends with a kiss.”

“How about…,” he trails off, moving closer to her, “we make up for that.”

When their lips meet somewhere in the middle, his minds grows quiet. There’s nothing but Scully’s lips against him, nothing but the taste of her, captivating all his senses. She opens her mouth to him, inviting him in. She tastes spicy, her tongue burning his. He deepens the kiss and Scully’s fingers tangle in his hair. A sharp pain shoots through him and he’s so busy with kissing Scully that it takes him a moment to locate it.

“Ouch,” he grumbles against her mouth.

“What happened?”

“Your wrist,” he says, trying not to move his head, “your bracelet… it’s stuck in my hair.”

“Oh! Hold still, Mulder.” He’s lucky that Scully is a doctor. She knows what she’s doing. But when nothing happens, when the metal continues to hold his hair hostage, she starts yanking it impatiently. He winces.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. “It’s just stuck.” She looks at him and he almost forgets about the pain. He just wants to kiss her again. Do more than just kiss her.

“I’ll count to three and then you just… rip it out. Don’t care about my hair. I need a haircut anyway. One, two-“ He doesn’t get to three. Scully pulls her hand back with such force that he thinks he’s going to pass out.

“Tada,” she says proudly, showing him her wrist where her bracelet is full of his hair.

“I said on three, Scully,” he pouts, rubbing his head.

“I couldn’t wait.”

“You’re impatient today.”

“I told you I was hungry.” And then she’s on him again, straddling his hips and devouring his mouth. His hands roam her body and as much as he’s admired her dress, now he wants to see her out of it.

“Scully,” he asks, breathless against her mouth. “Is this- are we-“

“Are we what?” she asks, stealing another kiss from him, her hips gently gyrating against him. His cock is wide awake by now and she must feel it.

“Is this leading… into the bedroom?”

“You really haven’t been on a date in a while, have you?” She asks, smiling at him.

“You’re not like any other woman I’ve ever dated, Scully.” Her eyes grow soft and she kisses him again. Then she gets up and stands before him, reaching for his hand.

“Come on,” she says and he follows her into the bedroom. He tears at her dress and she giggles. She helps him take it off and Mulder stares at her nude body.

“Where is your underwear?”

“In the laundry,” she says and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He’s too stunned to help her, to utter even a single word.

“I love this shirt, Mulder.”

“Hm, I’m glad,” he says, only half listening. His hands have started on a new journey, getting acquainted with her body in this new, wonderous way.

They end up on the bed, both naked and he doesn’t know where to look first, where to touch, where to taste. He wants to be everywhere at once. He spends some time on her breasts, cupping them, testing their weight in his hands. He kisses them, nuzzles them, before he takes a nipple in his mouth, making her squirm and moan. He gently bites her, getting lost in the moment, and so does Scully because her knee shoots up and hits him right in the groin.

“Oof.” He rolls off of her, touching his penis that’s throbbing for less pleasant reasons now.

“Oh my God, Mulder,” she says sitting up and moving his hands away from his groin. This should be a joyous moment, Scully touching his penis. But his poor cock just hangs there at half-mast, unable to greet her properly. She pets it lovingly, stroking it gently.

“Sorry,” she whispers, kissing his cheek.

“It’s okay.” He takes a few deep breaths and just when he thinks he has a grip on everything again, Scully’s mouth is on his penis, licking him. She takes him in deeper, starts sucking him harder, and then he hears it.

“Scully,” he asks, panting. “Did you just fa-“ before he can finish his question, his penis slips out of her mouth and she slithers up his body, pressing wet kisses everywhere she passes until she reaches his mouth.

“I got too excited,” she says before she starts kissing him in earnest again, “and yes, I did fart. These things happen.” Their bodies rub against each other enticingly and his own excitement grows by the second. Just when he’s about to roll her over, she stops kissing him. Her eyes grow wide in surprise and she scrambles off him quickly, elbowing him in the stomach in the process.

“Scully?” he asks, watching her stumble in the bathroom. A moment later he hears her throw up violently. He quickly gets up, doesn’t even think about putting on clothes, and joins her.

“Oh honey,” he says, kneeling down next to her where she’s hugging the toilet.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” she says. “I don’t know what happened. Don’t laugh but I thought… I thought I was feeling queasy was because we were finally doing this.”

“No need to apologize.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you feeling better now?” Her answer is to be sick again. He strokes her back gently, whispering nonsense to her. When she’s done for the moment, he wets a washcloth and wipes her mouth with it. There are goosebumps all over her body. He gets up to get her robe and helps her into it.

“This is not how I wanted our night to end,” she says.

“Neither did I,” he admits with a smile. “But I’m glad I’m here.”

“So am I.”

“Think you can get up? Or would you rather stay here?”

“I think I can get up.” He holds her and watches as she quickly brushes her teeth. They make their way back to her bed. “Did you just call me honey, Mulder?”

“Maybe,” he says, drawing the word out. “I’ll make you some tea and get you some Pepto, okay?” She nods, disappearing under her blanket, the term of endearment forgotten for the moment.

When he returns a couple of minutes later with a cup of tea, a glass of water and Pepto-Bismol, Scully chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, helping her sit up.

“You’re still naked.”

“Oh.” He looks down at himself. “I was preoccupied. How are you feeling?”

“Still queasy. Remind me to never eat Mexican food again.”

“I will,” he replies softly. “Do you want me to…”

“Stay here? Yes, I’d love that.” That wasn’t what he was going to ask but he smiles at her, happy that he gets to stay.

“Do you think we should try this again?” He asks her after a moment.

“Having sex? I sure hope so.”

He kisses her knuckles. “I meant going on a date.”

She sighs, closing her eyes. “Maybe we can try again in a couple of years. I just want to be with you, Mulder. We don’t need to go on dates. Okay?”

He nods. It’s more than okay with him.


	23. "is there anything else i can do for you?" - "just be here when i wake up" Post-ep for "Empedocles"

Scully holds on to the doll he’s just given her, gently stroking its face, and Mulder watches her, feeling calmer than he has in a while. He barely remembers it but has been told by his parents, and his grandmother, that he took that doll everywhere with him when he was little. It had been his constant companion, his keeper of unintelligible, childish secrets, his nightmare slayer. Until Samantha was born, that is. 

As soon as his baby sister was able to hold it, the doll became hers. And he became her big brother. It was his job to protect her, to keep her secrets safe, and to tell her happy stories whenever she was sad. 

“Who made this doll?” Scully asks him, the soft smile still on her lips.

“I don’t know,” he says, wondering why he’d never asked. “It was just always there. It was mine before I gave it to Samantha.”

“So this doll has a long history, hm?”

“Yeah.” He chokes on the simple word.

“It means a lot to me,” Scully says, her voice full of emotion as well. “That you gave it to me. To our – to the baby.” She’s always blushed easily but now even more so. She looks away from him, focuses on the doll instead. He’s been an asshole. The word is harsh, even in his own mind. He’s still trying to catch up with the last six months that he’s missed. It feels like a whole lifetime.

“Scully, I-“ but he’s still not ready. Not quite. “Is it okay if I eat? I’m hungry.” Her soft laugh is music to his ears.

“Eat, Mulder. I might steal a bite or two.”

“You really should eat something,” he says gently after his first slice. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and picks up another one. Scully watches and he can see it in her eyes that she wants a piece.

“Hmm, so good,” he moans, eyeing her.

“Fine,” she says, “I want a bite.” He offers her the rest of the slice and she bites into it, closing her eyes. All he can do is hold on to the pizza and watch her, his mouth half open.

“Good?” he asks when she opens her eyes again, licking her lips.

“Very,” she says, sounding happy. 

They eat half the pizza before Scully is yawning more than eating, her eyes constantly drifting close. Mulder takes the plates and the pizza into the kitchen, cleaning up. He takes his time, relishing every moment he gets to spend here. Right now, Scully’s apartment feels more like home than his own.

“Hey,” he says with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder when he returns to the living room. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She stares at him for a long moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her fingers curl around the doll. He’s glad he gave it to her. Seeing her with it is one of the few things that seem right these days.

“I’m not sure I can ask you,” she says in a small voice that puts a dent into his heart.

“You can ask me anything, Scully.”

“Just be here when I wake up?” Tears spring to her eyes. “I don’t- you don’t have to stay here. I just…”

“It’s all right,” he whispers, swallowing his own tears. “I can be here when you wake up. I won’t leave, Scully. I won’t.” With his thumb, he catches the tears from her eyes that spill over despite her trying to keep them at bay. He presses a kiss on each warm cheek and she laughs softly, a bit shakily.

“I just… I like having you around.”

“I like being around. I know I’ve not been the best…” what is he? Friend? Partner? Boyfriend?

“I understand, Mulder. I don’t blame you. I just miss you so much. I’ve been missing you for so long and I- it’s the hormones.”

“Hormones, huh?” He eyes her stomach. “Can I-“

“Mulder, you don’t have to ask. It’s your baby too.”

He’s known it. Of course he’s known it. But hearing the words, hear Scully say them to his face, is everything he didn’t know he needed. His hand comes to rest on her stomach. It still amazes him that they did this; created a life together. 

“Thank you,” he says.

“For what?” Scully asks, putting her hand close to his so that their fingertips are touching.

“For everything.” He kisses her stomach. “For believing in me, for saving me. For loving me.” He looks at her when he says it.

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

He nods. “But thank you anyway. Now let me help you into bed before you fall asleep on the couch.”

“I’m heavier these days,” she complains when he helps her up. “And I take up way more space in bed than I used to do.” He’s not going to tell her that she’s always pushed him to the edge of the bed. He’s never minded and he won’t start now.

“We’ll make it work, Scully.”


	24. X-Files Horror Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also posted this separately as it is part of the exchange challenge. Just putting it in here to have all the Fictober pieces in one place. Comments on either story are welcome :)

New England in autumn is a sight to be seen. Mulder drives them through the vibrant, popping colors and Scully watches, almost like a child, in silent awe. She can’t wait to stop the car, walk through the rustling leaves, take in the fresh air. Listen to the breeze of the nearby ocean. She hasn’t been to the ocean in so long and her soul aches for it. She chances a glance at Mulder. They’re both quiet, lost in their own thoughts. She wouldn’t be able to guess what he’s thinking about. Lately, this is all they’ve been; a long stretch of silence, of unspoken pains.

The longer they drive, the lonelier it becomes. She doesn’t know why they’re here, not really. Something about apparitions, something about a cold case. As so often, she just followed him, barely asking for an explanation, still trusting him with their work. Even after Diana. They’ve been inching back towards normalcy. But in her mind, it’s ever present. Before Diana, after Diana.

Mulder sets the blinker and turns onto a small, nondescript gravel path. She glances at him but he doesn’t say anything. They follow the path and Scully watches as the trees grow rarer, most of them bald, barely alive. She shivers involuntarily as a house comes into view, growing bigger and bigger. Mulder slows the car and parks at it what must have been a gate once.

“We’re here,” he says unnecessarily, turning to her. They get out of the car and Mulder stretches, holding his nose into the air, half a smile on his face. Scully watches him, half amused and, despite herself, a little bit in love with him.

“Mulder,” she says, looking at the house in front of them, abandoned and broken, “why are we here?”

“This house is said to be haunted.” Whenever he talks about haunted places, his face lights up. An enthusiasm she’s never been able to share.

“You already took me to a haunted house on Christmas Eve, Mulder.” And they almost ended up dead. Or so she thinks. The memories of that night are still hazy and untrustworthy. “I can’t keep doing this,” she says to herself but he hears her, throwing her a look she can’t decipher. They’re the only living things around here. Not a single bird is singing. The trees are watching on, dead und unmoving. Something is not right. She stops and looks around. The cold feeling is back, taking hold of her. As if someone were softly scratching her with long fingernails, making her shiver all over. She takes a step forward but the sensation remains.

Her eyes are drawn to the house. She squints, tries to see it for what it must have been once. The bricks are laid bare, the house a mere skeleton. It seems to be standing up by pure will. Part of it has crumbled to the ground, a big hole gaping in between the main house and a smaller cottage. They must have been a unit once. Now, they’re standing on their own sides, not touching, decaying by themselves, still in sync.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Mulder, wait.” He stops and turns around. “Why are we here? How is this an X-Files?”

“Just follow me.” He keeps on walking, pushing open the creaky wooden door. Scully huffs. So much for her New Year’s resolutions. There’s something about this house that repels her. She’s not going to admit it to Mulder. She barely admits it to herself. But she feels it all around her in the cool air, the eerie silence. There’s a presence here. Something rotten and evil.

“Scully?” Mulder asks from inside, his voice sounding obscured. She takes a deep breath, the smell of decomposition in the air growing stronger the closer she gets to the ajar door. She steps inside the damp, old ruin and looks around.

Mulder is on the stairs and they creak in pain with every step he takes.

“You still haven’t told me,” she says, walking through what must have been a kitchen once. There are a few cups on the table, on the counters. One day, someone walked out here and never returned. She doesn’t dare to look into the cups. One is chipped, another one has faded colors. There was life here, once.

“Told you what?” Mulder yells from upstairs.

“What we’re doing here.” Scully leaves the kitchen and finds herself in the main hall. She stares at the big, dark wooden grandfather clock in the corner. Her heart starts pounding as she realizes that it’s showing the right time. The hands are moving, tick tock, tick tock. How is it possible that this clock is ticking? How is it possible that anything is alive in this house?

“Come up here, Scully. I want to show you something.” She gives the clock one last look but it goes on steadily. It feels as if it were watching her with stern eyes, judging her. As soon as she turns around, facing away from the clock, she hears it. At first it’s soft, barely discernible. A laugh. She keeps on walking and there it is again. More laughter. It sounds like… like… children’s laughter. She turns back, gasping. There’s only the clock, mocking her with its precision. She takes a breath, reminds herself that perception can play tricks on your mind. There might be children outside, playing games. That’s what she heard. It must be.

As she ascends the stairs, the wood moaning, she touches the walls where yellow lines speak of picture frames that must have hung here once. Who lived here? She wonders. What happened to them?

“There you are,” Mulder says upstairs, his head peeking out of a small room.

“You owe me an explanation.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He touches her arm and leads her into the room. Gloomy light falls through the broken windows, fracturing this room, a child’s bedroom. Scattered toys, old and dusty, some gnawed on. Sadness engulfs her as she stands there, cold to the bone. She hugs herself but it neither brings her comfort, nor warmth.

“What are we doing here?” she asks again, the anger in her rising.

“One day in 1879, a girl named Lucy Monroe disappeared. No one expected fowl play. An accident, everyone said. The parents were devastated, left their house and moved away. No one heard from them again. Things went back to normal and no one thought about poor Lucy or her parents. That is until the next two children disappeared, a pair of siblings.” Mulder picks up a toy car and blows off the dust.

“Is this- did Lucy Monroe live in this house?” Scully looks around and her eyes linger on the wallpaper with colorful balloons and clowns.

“She didn’t,” Mulder goes on. “When Lucy disappeared, this house belonged to one Richard Watkins. His neighbors described him as an inconspicuous, religious man. He, his wife and their three children went to church every Sunday but liked to keep to themselves. Until a fire claimed the life of his wife and children. That’s when everything changed.”

“What changed?” Scully asks. Damn Mulder for knowing how to tell a story. He’s walking around in circles, still holding the small toy car. He turns to her, his face solemn.

“Richard Watkins bundled all his pain and his hate against God. He stopped going to church, stopped leaving the house altogether. People in town started talking about him. It became a dare for children to find this house and catch a glimpse of this ungodly man. The gossip started, as it always does. They said Richard Watkins turned his back on God, like he’d done to him, and worshipped Satan instead.”

Scully wants to roll her eyes, or laugh. She can’t. Mulder’s voice is mesmerizing. As is the story he’s telling. She stares at the three small beds, barely touched. She freezes. One bed, an old moldy mattress still in place, has an indentation. It almost looks like a child’s body. Scully looks away, focuses on Mulder and nothing else.

“What does this have to do with the case, Mulder?”

“Don’t you feel it, Scully? This house… it’s haunted.”

She feels it. She feels it in the strange scratching sensation that’s intensifying. She feels it in the heaviness of her bones. This house has memories and it is aching from them. She feels that same ache, too.

“I don’t feel it,” she lies. “Maybe you should have brought Diana. All I feel is a draft. I’m leaving.” She is angry with Mulder and angry with herself. Why does she continue to let herself be lured out to these places, into myths and folklores? This is not her job. She could be at home, she could be doing something of consequence. But here she is, in yet another haunted house, chasing ghosts and chasing Mulder.

This has to stop.

“I haven’t told you the rest of the story,” Mulder calls out but she’s already back on the stairs. She doesn’t reply, refuses to listen. She’s not as proficient in running away as Mulder is but she can manage.

Still on the stairs, she hears the clock in the main hall. Is that her imagination or has the noise increased? Drawn by an unknown force, Scully returns to the hall. Her eyes fall on the clock, the wood darker than she remembers it. Among all these broken, forgotten things, the clock doesn’t fit in. It doesn’t fit at all. Her eyes are trained on the hands. Maybe none of it is real, maybe she’s just imagining it, fueled by Mulder’s story. But they keep moving steadily.

The clock strikes the full hour and there’s a drawn-out creak that sounds as if someone were opening a door, but slowly. She stares at it, the clock, unmoving but for the hands. Tick tock, tick tock. The creaking stops and then everything else does, too. Scully holds her breath for a second, then lets it out. It’s all in my head, she reminds herself. She relaxes. There’s nothing wrong with this clock. Nothing at all.

Just as she’s about to leave, the clock-face crumbles, falls apart, and reveals a new face, half man, half not. Blood-red eyes meet hers for the flash of a second. An evil grin with sharp teeth, horns protruding from the forehead. She’s seen this face before. In stories, in her nightmares. It’s the face of the devil. Unable to look away, her shaky fingers search for her gun. She stops when she hears the soft, gentle sound of laughter close to her. 

Someone’s touching her. There’s pressure on her arm but as she looks down at it, there’s nothing there. Only laughter in the air. Happy, unabashed children’s laughter.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” a child’s voice singsongs. Scully makes a complete turn but she’s all alone. There’s only her and the big, dark clock that sits there unremarkably. The face, she notices, has gone back to normal.

“I’m losing my mind,” she murmurs, slowly walking backwards. She needs to get out of this room, out of this house. When her back comes into contact with something warm, something solid, she screams.

“Hey,” Mulder says, holding her by the arms. “It’s just me.”

“Did you hear it, Mulder?” she asks him.

“Hear what?”

“The children.”

“What children?”

“There was children’s laughter, there was-“ she stops. She sounds crazy. Mulder looks at her as if she’s lost her mind before he cracks a smile.

“So now you agree with me? This place is haunted.”

“Why did you bring me here?” she yells at him. All the anger and frustration she’s been feeling these last few weeks break out of her.

“I- the case, I-“ He’s stunned by her outburst. “I thought we could… I wanted to show you this house, tell you the story. I’ve been fascinated by it ever since I was a child myself.” His eyes grow soft and so does she.

“Tell me,” she says, feeling weak. “But not in here. I need fresh air.” They walk outside together, Mulder holding Scully’s hand. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this but this place is creepy, Mulder.”

He chuckles softly. “I know. Can I finish my story now?” Scully nods at him. “No one ever found out what happened to Lucy Monroe or the other two kids that disappeared. They were never found. But Richard Watkins was. The details are hazy but he slipped one night, fell down the cliffs and died. An act of God, it was later surmised. Because of what he’d been planning. They never found the kids but they found Lucy Monroe’s doll in his house, clothes that the kids had been wearing, too. They searched the whole place but no other traces could be found. It was said that Richard Watkins was planning to sacrifice the children to Satan the night he died.”

“The children,” she mumbles. She thinks of the laughter she’d heard and shivers. It can’t be. It just can’t be. There’s no such thing as haunted souls, a haunted house.

“You heard them.”

“I heard something,” she admits. “There might be children playing here somewhere that-“

“There are no children here, Scully. Listen. You heard the three lost children. That’s what folks around here call them. The three lost children. They’re said to be haunting this house. In early 1900, people tried to sell this house. Enough time had passed, they’d figured. No one has been able to stay here longer than a few weeks. The last recorded family that moved in were the Hendersons in the 50s. A newly married couple, just starting out. While Mr. Henderson never heard the children, his wife sure did. She thought she was going insane. They’d been trying for a baby and everyone, including her doctors and her husband, thought that unfulfilled wish was causing her audiovisual hallucinations.”

Is that why she heard them? Because of her own failure to conceive? She pushes the thought away.

“What happened to them?”

“They moved out. Their marriage was in shambles by the time they did. Mr. Henderson was so angry that this house, their dream house, was causing them so much misery that he destroyed half of it.” They both turn to look at the house, at the gaping middle.

“They separated?”

Mulder shakes his head. “They almost did. Their love for each other was strong though.” He stares at her, his eyes so green, so open, that she feels powerless. “They moved away. They worked on their marriage. They healed. Together. And then, not long after, Mrs. Henderson became pregnant. She gave birth to a healthy baby girl. The end.” He grins at her.

“How do you know all this, Mulder?”

“Because,” he says, taking her hand and leading her to the car. The more distance they bring between themselves and the house, the freer Scully feels. The tension leaves her body. “The Hendersons were our neighbors. That little baby girl? She grew up and used to babysit me. We came here when I was about 10 years old after I’d begged my parents. I haven’t been able to forget about this story ever since. Neither of us heard the three lost children though. But you did.”

“Mulder…”

“It’s okay. I know you don’t want to admit it. Most people don’t hear them. Only a few have reported the laughter and… feeling an evil presence in this house.” He touches her arm, strokes it gently. “Legend says only people who are pure of heart can hear the children.”

Scully snorts. “You had me until that last bit, Mulder.” He shrugs and smiles at her. “There is no case here, is there?”

“Oh, there is. But not here exactly. It’s further up north. I just wanted to take you here, share this with you. After… after everything.”

She bites her lip, but she can’t resist. “Have you ever taken Diana here?”

Mulder looks genuinely surprised. “No,” he says and she knows he’s telling the truth. “I never even thought about it.”

“Good,” she says and opens the car door. Mulder puts his hand over hers.

“I know it may take a while,” he says, his voice breaking. “But I want to win your trust back.”

“You never lost my trust,” she says. “And you and Diana… I know it’s none of my business and-“

“Of course it’s your business,” he cuts in. “It is your business. I want it to be. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“Clear, Mulder?” She raises an eyebrow. “When?”

“The hallway,” he says, his eyes fixed on hers. She blushes. “Taking you on all these adventures when we were off the X-Files. I mean it, Scully. I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to do it alone. I want you here by my side. If that’s what you want, too.”

She stares at the house, thinks about the Hendersons. He tore half of it down to repair something else, in a new place. Maybe they can too. She thinks of the laughter, of the three lost children, of the evil in this house. She doesn’t want to stay here in this place. She wants to move on, move past what’s holding her back.

Scully takes his hand and interlaces their fingers. They both stare at their hands as if they were a small wonder. Maybe they are.

“I want to be here, do this with you. I- I should probably tell you what I saw in there or what I thought I saw. Maybe there’s an X-Files here after all.”

“You don’t have to, X-Files or not.”

“I want to,” she says. “But not here. Let’s keep driving. Okay?”

He nods. “Just one thing before I lose my nerve again or before anything else happens.” He lowers his head, giving her ample time to move away. She won’t. She wants this. She’s been wanting it for so long. Their lips meet and everything around them stops mattering. It’s a soft kiss, a hesitant first. There’s still some rubble between them that they need to clean up.

There will be time to do that later.

“I’ve always wanted to make out at a haunted house,” Mulder admits when they disconnect. Her lipstick is smeared against his mouth, a bit on his cheek, too.

“Why am I not surprised?” she says with a smile.

“Let’s go. I think there’s something you wanted to tell me.”


	25. Hurt/comfort after "The Pine Bluff Variant"

Mulder’s silent rage sits with them in the car on their way back to his apartment. It follows them up in the elevator, is present when they both take off their shoes and their coats. Scully watches him with mindful eyes, wonders what’s going through his head.

“They used me,” he mumbles, his voice menacing. It’s one of the first things he’s said since their confrontation with the CIA Agent. He’s staring straight ahead as if in his own world.

She gently touches his arm but doesn’t get a reaction. “Mulder,” she adds softly, hoping to coax him out of his state of mind.

“They used me, Scully,” he repeats, turning to her. “I’m just a pawn. That’s all I am, isn’t it? Spooky Mulder doing the dirty work for the government. I’m so sick of it,” he says, his voice rising. “So damn sick of it!”

Before she knows what’s happening, he turns around and slams his fist against the door. There’s a crack and she can’t be sure whether it’s from bones or the wood.

“Are you crazy?” She shrieks, taking his hand into hers, examining it.

“You know I am.” There’s no humor in his voice.

“Why did you do that?” She asks softly, exasperated. She bends each of his fingers and he winces, but it seems like nothing is broken.

“What else am I supposed to do, Scully?” he asks in return, his eyes searching hers. The anger is slowly falling off him. All she sees now is pain. Pure, raw hurt that gnaws at him. She wants to hold him close, assure him that everything will be okay. Even though she knows it won’t be. The truth will continue to elude them, will continue to be hidden and cast aside. But she also knows Mulder. He will go out there again and try his best to save the whole world.

“Let me take care of your hands, hm?” She says. “Look, it’s swelling. We’ll put ice on it and then I’ll check on your finger.”

“Clever way to get out of typing the reports, don’t you think?” She throws him a soft smile, appreciating the fact that he can still joke. She hears him shuffle into the living room. When she returns, she is reminded of the night before. Mulder sits on his couch, looking dejected. The only difference this time is that there’s sunlight streaming through his windows and that he’s got two injured hands instead of one.

“Oh, Mulder,” she says when she carefully applies the ice. “You might need to see a doctor. Have it x-rayed.”

“It’s not broken,” he says. “It doesn’t feel broken. And you’re my doctor. You can take care of this.”

“I don’t have x-ray vision,” she says with a smile, checking up on his pinkie, still in the makeshift splint.

“Too bad.” He smirks at her.

“Mulder.” She waits until she has his attention. Looking at him, she notices how exhausted he is. She wishes she could run her hand through his hair, tell him to lie down, and sleep for a few hours. Maybe she will. She is his doctor after all. “I know you think you’re just a pawn but you’re not. What you do – what we do – is important.”

“Is it? Or are we just continuously being used for what they want, Scully? I don’t know how to… sometimes I just want to… give up.”

“I know you, Mulder,” she says, putting his splint back on. “You can’t give up.”

“What about you?” He asks, stifling a yawn.

“I’m not giving up either. There’s too much work to do. Someone has to write the reports now that you can’t.” They share a smile. Tomorrow, they will do it all over again. Fight the good fight. They will stumble again, and get up. They will lose again, and keep on fighting. Today, they will breathe, and rest. 

“You should get some sleep.”

“It’s broad daylight,” he complains but he lies down, his eyes closing before he’s horizontal. “Will you stay?” A soft plea, almost whispered.

“I’ll stay,” she promises.


	26. Yet another trip to the woods that goes wrong

She’s on the ground holding her throbbing leg when she sees Mulder rush towards her. He’s a blur as he falls to his knees in front of her, swirling up a bunch of leaves.

“What happened?” he asks, his hand finding hers on her hurt leg.

“I tripped,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Can you get up?”

“Yes,” she says and tries to put weight on her leg. The pain shoots through her whole body, blinding her. “No, I can’t,” she admits sheepishly. Tears rush to her eyes. How could she have been so careless? She wasn’t looking at the leaf-covered ground as she ran after Mulder. Damn his long legs. Damn these constant trips to the woods.

“Come on, I’ll help you up.” He puts his hands under her arms and she feels like a helpless child. Together, they manage to get her upright. “Scully, I know you’re not going to like what I’m gonna say next.”

And she knows he’s right. Unless he carries her, they’re not going to make it out of this forest by daylight. Or at all. Softly, she nods at him, letting him know it’s okay. She puts a hand on his shoulder as he reaches under her knees to pick her up. Her leg protests and when the pain subsides to a bearable degree, she finds herself in Mulder’s arms, bridal style, her head bobbing against his shoulder.

His strides are quick; it’s as if she didn’t weigh anything at all. She tries to relax against him, but it’s easier said than done. He’s warm. Even through all the layers separating them. He’s warm, he’s soft and he’s strong. She should hate this; she wants to hate it. She’s not some damsel in distress and Mulder is not tall, handsome hero. Well…

“You’re good at this,” she says to distract herself from the pain in her leg but also from her thoughts, from being pressed against Mulder.

“Not my first time, babe,” he says with a grin. “I carried you in Antarctica.”

“I don’t remember that,” she mumbles.

“No,” he says, turning serious. “You wouldn’t. To be honest, I prefer you conscious for this. How is your leg?”

“To be honest,” she parrots him, “not good.”

“Well, thank you for being honest,” he says and his breath, getting more labored, hits her cheek.

“I’m too heavy for you. Let me down. I’ll try to walk myself.”

“Scully, you weigh next to nothing,” he assures her. “Good thing I didn’t hurt myself this time, huh? Though you’d probably try to carry me anyway.”

“I would,” she says, smiling softly.

“Do you think your leg might be broken?”

She’s been trying not to think about it. She doesn’t know how far they are from their car – and from civilization.

“Scully? Don’t go quiet on me.”

“I’m not,” she promises. “I think… I think it might be broken.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles, picking up his pace.

“Mulder, slow down.”

“I want to get you out of here.”

“I know.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, feeling the effort in his muscles. He’s going to be sore tomorrow. “But you sprinting through the woods is making the pain worse.”

He immediately slows and looks down at her. “I’m sorry, Scully. For all of this.”

“It’s not your fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Yeah, but I got us here because I wanted to investigate the Fouke Monster. It’s never a nice trip to the forest, is it? We’ve had killer bugs, moth men and now this.”

“Maybe next time we can investigate a sea monster instead.” Her joke results in a sweet Mulder smile.

“We could go to Scotland, Scully. See Nessie.”

“Hmm, maybe one day.”

“Hey, don’t fall asleep.”

“I won’t. Tell me more about the Fouke Monster.”

“I already told you before we got here.”

“I don’t care. Tell me again. I love your voice.”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“Mulder, you made me sing for you once when you were hurt. Please just tell me about woodland cryptids.”

“As you wish,” he says with a mock sigh. “The Fouke Monster is also knows as the Southern Sasquatch and…”

Despite the pain, despite the situation, she smiles. She’s safe in Mulder’s arms.


	27. Mulder hears Scully fart for the first time

“Scully?” Mulder asks from the driver’s seat, a smile on his face, and amusement in his voice.

“Hm?” She’s engrossed in a file or is at least pretending to be. They’re on some country road, with no other car in sight, in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” She looks up briefly and adjusts her glasses. He likes when she wears them.

“That noise.” He’s grinning but Scully is unfazed, her nose buried in the file.

“What noise, Mulder?” She enunciates every word and looks at him. Now he remembers why he enjoys it so much when she wears her glasses. Because of the way she looks at him when he’s getting on her nerves. It’s his favorite game: how long until Scully rolls her eyes at him? In the beginning, he did it to unnerve her. He wanted her to give up and leave him alone. Well, that didn’t last long. He smiles at her, happy that she’s still here.

“That… farting noise.” He grins. How could he not? His proper little partner just farted. He’s heard it loud and clear. There’s no denying it. He waits for her to try though.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Hm, probably because it was you.”

“Mulder,” she closes the file and looks at him. “What are you implying?”

“You farted, Scully.”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, you did.”

“I did not but I will have you know that farting is normal and healthy.”

“I don’t question the health benefits. You know me,” he says and finally he gets an eye roll. Score one for Mulder. “All I’m saying is that you did it. Right here in the car.”

Scully sighs long and deep, picks up the folder again and starts reading. “So, this case, Mulder-“

“Changing the subject, I see.”

“Will you let it go?” she asks.

“Why? You already did.” He laughs and glances over at her. She’s chewing on her bottom lip.

“Fine,” she says, admitting it. “It was the Mexican food we had at that diner earlier. Now can we please stop talking about this? Wait… Mulder, did you just- did you just fart, too?”

He shrugs. “I thought I should even the field.”

Scully cracks open a window. “Can we talk about the case now and forget this ever happened?”

“Sure,” he says trying to appear serious.

Maybe they should get Mexican more often. All he knows is that he won’t forget this moment for a while. He smiles.


	28. Mulder asks Scully how to best release stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No mention of the episode but it's set after "Drive"

“Mulder,” she says, hoping her voice conveys both a warning and genuine concern, “why are you so restless?”

They’re sitting at their desks, or she is; Mulder is leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling and throwing little paper balls around the office. He’s lucky they’re alone in here. Except for them, no one up here works past 5 pm.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asks without even looking at her.

“You can go home, you know.”

“And then?” He sits upright, the back of the chair snapping back. One of these days, the chair is going to give up. “I just can’t- ever since we’ve come back from Antarctica, it’s been… I’m just so stressed out.”

“Mulder, why don’t you take a few days off? Get some rest?”

He laughs. “Rest? What’s that? Tell me, Dr. Scully, what’s the best way to deal with stress?” He leans back again, his hands folded behind his head. He may be sporting a smile but he’s tapping his fingers against his knee, unable to just be still.

“Well,” Scully begins, turning her chair towards him, “have you tried exercise?”

He nods. “Been running every day. Swimming, too. Doesn’t help. What else?”

“You could drink relaxing teas,” she thinks out loud and smiles when Mulder makes a disgusted face at her. “Or light a candle.”

“Light a candle?”

“Aromatherapy could help relieve symptoms of stress.”

“I think I’ll pass,” he says, putting a sunflower seed between his teeth. “Anything else?”

“Cut down on caffeine,” Scully says, knowing he’ll dismiss the idea right away. “Or chew gum.” He points at his half full bag of sunflower seeds. So no gum chewing for Mulder. Knowing him, he’d probably leave them all over the place, including the desk and the chair. She regrets even mentioning it.

“Deep breathing exercises, mindfulness or even yoga.”

“Scully,” he whines, his leg bouncing. He reminds her of a puppy who hasn’t been entertained enough.

“You asked.”

“I thought you had better tips,” he says with a pout.

“Have you tried to… release stress.” She should just say the word. She’s a doctor, for god’s sake. Still, she hopes he gets her meaning anyway.

“Release,” he says, drawing out the word, “stress. You mean…” He grins at her, making it easier for her to take the whole situation less seriously.

“Masturbation, Mulder,” she says matter-of-factly, willing herself to remain stoic.

“Ah, that,” he says and she thinks she sees a blush creep into his cheeks. “The answer is yes. I have tried that.”

She looks at him and wonders if she’s going to regret the next words that come out of her mouth.

“Physical contact lowers cortisol levels and helps release oxytocin,” she says, half to him and half to herself.

“Oh yes, talk science to me, Scully.”

“Cuddling,” she goes on, ignoring Mulder’s joke, “kissing and hugging all help release stress.”

Now he’s quiet, simply watching her. He looks as if he’s trying to make a decision about something. There’s a sunflower seed between his fingers, half forgotten.

“Kissing, huh,” he mumbles. “You’re the doc, Scully. You think a hug might help?” His voice is glib, but his eyes are not. They’re the ones with the question, the uncertainty.

“I think a hug might help,” she says against her better judgment. They’re at the office, for god’s sake. But she gets up from her chair, as does Mulder.

“How are we going to do this?” He asks as if they’ve never hugged before. She takes a few steps forward and puts her arms around him. She does her best not to sigh against his chest when his arms engulf her, too.

“Like this,” she says against his tie. She closes her eyes, pretends it’s because the tie is ugly (but that’s a lie and she knows it).

“This is nice,” he whispers into her hair and the words get tangled there. Isn’t this how it all started in his hallway? Her heart picks up. Except this time, she is not about to quiet and leave. There’s no danger. There’s just the two of them, holding each other in the ballpen, sharing warmth, releasing stress. 

Except… they’re at work. There won’t be a repeat of what almost happened in the hallway. Not now, not here. They’ve long crossed the line of professionalism. But there’s another line, right here, and she’s not going to cross it. 

“Does it help?” she asks him, knowing she needs to let go. Just one more moment of warm Mulder pressed against her, his heartbeat a perfect rhythm.

“Hmmm, yeah. I guess I should listen to my doctor more often.”

“You should.”

Just one more minute, she thinks. Or two. Definitely not more than three.


	29. A fluffy drabble (100 words)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble challenge on tumblr! I got the prompt: field

“Mulder.” Scully stares at the dandelion fields in front of them, the flowers swaying in the mild breeze. “Why are we here?”

“Ever heard of the Dandelion Monster, Scully?” He picks up a flower, offers it to her.

“Can’t say that I have.” Blossom by blossom, she thinks, the spring begins. She takes in the scent, the scenery. Takes in the sight of Mulder, watching her.

“It doesn’t exist. I just thought you deserved flowers.” His smile is brighter than the sun.

“Why?” she asks, tearing up.

“Because,” he whispers and catches her unexpecting lips in a soft, first kiss.


	30. "The I won't let you go alone" scene in "Requiem" but different

“You’re not going back out there. I’m not going to let you go back out there.”

“You’re not going to let me?” Scully spits the words at him, backing away from him. 

“It has to end sometime. That end is now.”

“Since when do you get to make decisions for me?” She stares at him with fiery, angry eyes. Why is she so angry? He’s only doing this to protect her. He reaches out his hand to her but she recoils.

“Scully, I- they’re taking abductees. You’re an abductee. I’m not going to risk… losing you.” He watches her in the hopes that his words get through to her. “Do you understand now? You were sick out there. You fainted.”

“I’m fine.” Her voice is snippy. “I’ve been fine ever since we’ve come back.” But he sees the doubt in her eyes. In the way she worries her bottom lip and her refusal to even look at him. This isn’t their first disagreement since they’ve started sleeping with each other, far from it. Each time, it gets more personal, cuts deeper than the time before. He’s always wanted to protect her, to keep her safe. Now it’s the only thing that matters to him.

“Are you fine, really?” This time, she allows his touch. His hand curls around her arm and like a magnet, she draws closer.

She sighs as she leans her head against his shoulder. “I’m tired, but that’s all. I can’t bear the thought of you going out there alone. We’re partners, Mulder. No matter what else we are, we are partners first.”

“I know,” he says and kisses her forehead.

“You do know that Skinner and the others could see.”

“I don’t care,” he says, pressing another kiss against her temple.

“We should go back in.”

“What about-“ he chokes on the rest of his sentence when he sees Scully sway and her eyes roll back into her head. He catches her just in time before she falls to the ground, her body limp and lifeless.

“Scully!” He holds her against him, hoping, yes, praying, that she opens her eyes, comes to, and chastises him for this shameless public display of affection. He counts while holding her, not knowing what else to do. “Help,” he says, first faintly, then another time, but louder. Skinner’s head appears a moment later.

“What in the-“

“Call 911,” Mulder says without looking at his boss or letting go of Scully. There’s rustling in the background, a variety of voices. Mulder only has eyes and ears for Scully, This is how she looks when she falls asleep watching a movie on his couch. It’s the same face he sees in the morning when he wakes before her. And he does most days.

“Wake up,” he says. “Do you want to see me wearing my panic face? You only have to open your eyes.”

But she doesn’t.

Not until two hours later, that is.

Mulder sits by her bed, her hand in his. His eyes are burning. What if he blinks and she wakes up?

“Hm, Mulder?” she says, finally, though her eyes are still closed.

“I’m here, Scully.” He squeezes her hand and scoots closer. He smiles at her and it only grows bigger when she opens her eyes.

“What- what happened?”

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he says softly. “Do you remember anything?”

“Morning?” she asks groggily. “How long did I sleep?”

“It’s not morning. You did take your time though.”

“I still don’t remember… what happened.” She touches her head as if to jumpstart her memory.

“You fainted,” Mulder says, trying to keep his emotions in check. “Straight into my arms.”

“You’re serious.”

He simply nods, swallows before he dares to utter the next words. “They’ve done a few tests. Drew some blood.”

“Where’s my chart?” Scully asks.

“The doctor wanted to come back in… well, at some point. I was preoccupied,” he admits. “I’m just glad to see you awake, to speak with you. Everything else is just- we’ll deal with it.”

“But Mulder, what if it’s-“

The door swings open and Scully’s doctor strolls in. Instinctively, Mulder grips Scully’s hand tighter. The man is smiling at them but Mulder doesn’t trust his good mood.

“Good to see you awake, Doctor Scully,” he says, opening her chart. “You should take it easy for the next few days and rest up. Oh, I see, no one has been here to inform you about your results yet.”

“Hold my hand,” Scully pleads with him.

“I’m here, Scully,” Mulder promises, squeezing her hand. It’s as much for her benefit as for his own. He wants to close his eyes, cover his ears, and hide under the covers with her. Instead, he stares at the doctor and prepares himself mentally for the word he fears the most.

“Congratulations, Doctor Scully, you’re pregnant.”

And now it’s Mulder who thinks he might faint.


	31. Halloween! Melissa performs a palm reading

“Oh hi.” Mulder is surprised when the door to Scully’s apartment opens, and he’s face to face with another Scully woman. It’s not that he doesn’t like Melissa Scully, but he’s here to see his Scully.

“Fox, hello.” Her smile is sweet and genuine. It makes him wonder what Scully has told her sister about him.

“It’s Mulder,” he hears from inside the apartment. “Not Fox.”

“Sorry,” Melissa says to him, still smiling. “Come on in, Mulder. Why do you go by Mulder anyway? Dana never said.”

“Just a preference.”

“Don’t pester him, Missy,” Scully says, storming into her living room like a whirlwind. He catches a whiff of her perfume and it makes him dizzy. “I’m almost ready, Mulder. Five more minutes.” Just as quickly as she appeared in the living room, she disappears back into the bedroom.

“Why do you have to work on Halloween?” Melissa asks him, crossing her arms in front of her. Must be a Scully family trait.

“It’s the spookiest day of the year,” he explains lamely. Truth is, he had wanted to spend the day with Scully. The case is a flimsy excuse and now that he stands in front of Melissa, guilt gnaws at him. He didn’t know Scully had plans with her sister.

“I hope you know you’re getting in the way of a Scully tradition here.”

“Missy!” Scully yells from her bedroom.

“Oh?”

“Dana and I watch bad movies, eat too much candy and get drunk on wine.” Melissa glares at him, one eyebrow raised. She walks closer to him and lowers her voice. “It’s the one day she allows me to read her palm. You know how she is.”

He nods. Of course he knows how she is. The thought of his Scully having her palm read makes him smile. He makes a decision; the case, if it’s a case at all, can wait. Scully deserves this night with her sister. God knows too much has been taken away from her already.

“You know what? I can do this on my own. If I need Dana’s help, I’ll call her. It’s probably nothing anyway.”

“What?” Scully has emerged from her bedroom, ready to go. She’s wearing one of her serious pantsuits, her hands on her hips. She’s all business.

“I, um, I think you should spend tonight with your sister.”

“What about work?”

He shrugs. “I’ll call you if I need you, promise.”

“Fox- I mean Mulder- you said it might be nothing. Why don’t you just stay? At least for the palm reading. I need the practice.” Melissa Scully is persuasive. He should have known after her visit to his apartment when Scully was in the hospital. He pretends to consider it but his decision to stay already made.

“Missy, don’t,” Scully warns but Mulder smiles at her and takes off his jacket.

“Well, show me what you’ve got then.”

Five minutes later, the three of them are sitting around Scully’s kitchen table. Melissa’s various bracelets and rings jingle as she stretches her hands. Mulder watches the older Scully sister, then his partner. She is obviously amused by her sister’s antics, but he also sees the love she has for her on her face. 

“Give me your hand, Mulder,” Melissa says and he does as told. She holds it in her hands and turns it around a few times. “Hmm, you’ve got air hands.” He’s watching the way she’s tugging at each of his fingers and he hears Scully giggle on the other side of the table.

“What does that mean?” he asks, immediately drawn in.

“You’re intellectually curious,” Melissa says, still turning his hand over, “and you have great analytical abilities. You’re good at communication.”

A snort from Scully. As he glances over at her, she takes a sip from her wine, not looking at him.

“As a lover, you thrive on mental rapport.” Mulder’s face feels warm. He doesn’t dare look at Scully and her reaction to her sister’s words. “Let’s look at your heart line. Hmmmm.”

“Hmm, what?” Mulder asks.

“It says here,” she says matter-of-factly as if his life, his emotions were scribbled into his palm, “your heart line is very high.”

“What does that mean?”

Melissa looks at him and he doesn’t know her well enough to judge her expression. “It means you’re passionate. Dana, give me your hand.”

“What? No. You said it’s Mulder’s turn. You did mine last year.”

“Dana, give me your hand,” Melissa repats, her own flat on the table. A moment later, Scully gives in.

“I knew it,” she says.

“Knew what?” Mulder asks.

“Your heart lines,” she says, putting their hands close together. “They’re parallel.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means nothing,” Scully says and draws her hand away. “Palm reading isn’t scientific. I’m going to change into something more comfortable if we’re not going out after all.” They both watch her leave the room.

“What do those lines mean?” Mulder asks again.

“It means that you,” but she stops. She looks at him, her face soft. “You mean a lot to each other and you always will. No matter what happens. There’s a strong connection between you two. The rest you’ll have to figure out yourself, Fox.” She winks at him.

“Do you mean we’re-“

“Figure it out. Dana might need some help and some convincing, but I think you’re on the right track.” She gets up.

He stares at his palm, follows his heart line with his finger. Two parallel lines, him and Scully. He thinks of love, thinks of forever.

“Mulder?” Scully asks him, joining him at the kitchen table in more casual clothes, her face devoid of make-up. “Don’t let Missy get into your head. It’s just a party game. Come on.” She reaches for his hand and as soon as their hands touch, he knows. It’s as clear as anything he’s ever believed.

Party game or not, it’s him and Scully. Forever.


End file.
